


Theory of Sound

by DailyDaves



Category: Rooster Teeth/Achievement Hunter RPF
Genre: Ableism, M/M, Other, Polyamory, mentions of child abuse
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-10-08
Updated: 2014-01-21
Packaged: 2017-12-28 19:03:28
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 9
Words: 101,855
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/995436
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DailyDaves/pseuds/DailyDaves
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>While Gavin lives in a world of silence, Dan and Michael both live in a world of sound and lack thereof. The Ramsey family and accompanied teenage sign-language translator move to a close-minded neighborhood in Texas, where Gavin and Dan meet a certain Michael Jones. When Michael  assumes that Gavin's deafness is the only thing that defines him, Gavin does what he does best and decides to make his school and home life a living hell, all while stumbling through the normal problems that normal teenagers have dealing with their not-so-normal relationship with their translator.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Summer

**Author's Note:**

> New updates every week.
> 
> [cross posted here](http://gavirn.tumblr.com/post/63441033902/theory-of-sound)!

It was summer when he first saw them.

The house opposite his was vacant, sitting empty for as long as Michael could remember. All his life the house across the street had just been the empty house, a house void of any occupants, and he'd thought nothing of it because it was something that just _was_. The summer before senior year was when that changed, though, leaving Michael to wake up one morning to the unmistakable sound of a truck outside and voices heard through his windows. It was the beginning of summer: a warm, disgustingly humid day in the beginning of June, the heat at its peak when he woke up midday. Per usual, the Texan heat clung to his skin in the form of sweat and musk and he once again accepted the fact that even with air conditioning the heat was, in fact, absolutely inescapable.

There was fuss outside. He could hear it through the thin walls of his house as he quickly pulled on some clothes and stumbled downstairs, finding whatever he had as a family already gone without so much as a note. It didn't surprise him. It was nothing out of the ordinary. Nothing changed much around here, anyways. His family was rarely home, the house across the street always empty-it was all normal, something Michael had long accepted no matter what its outside connotations were.

Something was out of the usual, though, and Michael saw it as soon as he ducked his head outside the beat-up front door. Right there, right in the middle of the driveway that until now had always been empty, was a giant fucking moving truck. Huge and looming, seemingly taking up the entire driveway, the back gate up to reveal furniture and people scrambling about in it.

It was summer when he first saw them.

Summer, hot and Texan and so painstakingly usual. Summer, loud and rambunctious with kids darting around on the street to get a good look at the new people moving in. Summer, just before Michael was legally considered an adult. Summer, when Michael allowed himself to sit outside on the steps leading to his shitty house, watching not unlike the elementary-school children shouting and playing on the sidewalks.

He got the notion, looking at them, watching them move and interact, that something was off. The neighborhood wasn't exactly considered a nice neighborhood. Michael didn't live in a nice house, nor did he live with the typical suburban family. It was, however, a neighborhood that did hold traditional values, a neighborhood in which everyone was so boringly the same, everyone looking similar and holding similar ideals. By just looking at them, he could tell something was off.

He watched with a piqued curiosity and didn't attempt to hide it. The first person he saw was the woman, someone Michael would look twice at if he saw her on the street, blonde and strangely attractive, with sleeve tattoos on both arms, something Michael knew the neighborhood would ridicule her for. She kept tearing boxes from the hands of the man handing them down from the truck to her, teasing him for not being able to handle the heavy lifting. People wouldn't like that guy, either, Michael noted, looking him over the best he could-dark-haired and bearded with tired eyes, more tattoos, and a broad smile. They were probably the most interesting thing Michael had seen in a while, and he found himself asking why the fuck would they move here, of all places, to a conservative, hive-minded neighborhood that Michael despised with a passion?

Then he noticed them.

The two of them came around back, walking up the hill the house was situated on. One of them called out, an easy British accent to his voice, calling out to the people unpacking the truck, catching Michael's interest immediately and ripping it away from the couple. Michael felt himself hold his breath and he wasn't completely sure why, his eyes widening at the pair of teenagers as they made their way to the couple, his thoughts surrounded with a mixture of 'oh shits' and 'fucking hells'. It was everything about the two, the way they looked about Michael's age, the way they were distinctly foreign, and worst of all, the way the shorter of the pair, the one with the huge fucking nose, was grasping onto the arm of the taller one as they walked. Jesus Christ everyone else was going to have a fucking field day with them.

It only got worse from there, and it would only continue to get worse.

The hand motions were quick, sharp as the nose-y boy's hands moved through the air when he let go of his companion's arm. It didn't take a genius to figure out it was sign language, and Michael Jones was most certainly not a genius.

It wasn't until fall that he even acknowledged the existence of the family across the street again. Most of the neighborhood shunned them, too. Michael, like most other times, fell in with the crowd.

\--- 

Gavin had never felt heat like this.

His hair clung to him, blonde tufts sticking to the back of his neck, his body exhausted with the introduction to the blistering heat. He had half a mind to go inside and curl up on the floor of his unfurnished room on the white carpeting and sleep. Unfortunately, though, Geoff and Griffon were unlike other people and did not consider Deafness Perks to be an actual thing, something that Gavin usually loved about them but now considered to be an unfortunate mindset. Thus, he was stuck helping and though Griffon did most of the heavily lifting, work of unpacking still made Gavin tired, as well as extremely bored. It was the same thing again and again-take this out, put it over there, check it off the list, and rinse and repeat. He was ready to bloody fall asleep unpacking.

So when Dan offered his arm to Gavin, asking him if he wanted to go to the backyard and check it out, he wasn't the least bit hesitant to wrap his hand around Dan's arm and fall into step beside him.

"Perfect for blowing shit up in, right, B?" His hands worked in an almost lazy fashion. Sign language was a funny thing, surprisingly different from spoken and written word, a fact that most people didn't actually know. It also worked in probably the stupidest way he could imagine, since each word, no matter what form, had an entirely new sign, rather than an added motion to denote the conjugation, but that was beside the point.

Dan raised an eyebrow, sparing him a side glance, replying with a single word that Gavin saw at least ten times a day. "Pyromaniac."

Gavin smiled, his mouth opening in a laugh where no sound actually escaped him, the lazy motions of his hands cutting through the humid air around them, "Cheers, B." And then he took hold of Dan's arm again and they walked around the backyard, only returning uphill to where Griffon and Geoff were once Gavin had implied at least five times that the backyard was perfect size for setting off explosions and not catching the house on fire.

That was when he saw him.

His grip on Dan's arm tightened, a wordless communication between them as he met eyes with not just most of the neighborhood, who had come outside to watch the amazing spectacle of new people moving in, but the person across the street, whose eyes were focused on him and Dan. It'd been years and Gavin still wasn't used to being a spectacle, someone on display to people who thought that just because he couldn't hear, it also meant that he couldn't see or feel their eyes on him. He suspected he'd never get used to being watched like a hawk.

He was Gavin's age and by default, Dan's age. He watched them closely, and he was too far away for Gavin to see much else about him other than his mop of curly bedhead and square-glasses. Years of soundless people-watching had taught Gavin observation skills, leaving him able to notice things non-deaf people wouldn't be able to, and he immediately saw the brooding, the anger, and if anything in the neighborhood was off-putting, he would be it. His hand left Dan's arm, his fingers curling into words as he tried form his thoughts into coherent signs.

"Let's go back inside."

A simple nod was his answer and all he needed. He could feel the other kid's eyes on them and Dan's body beside him tense as he called something out to Griffon. He didn't particularly care to ask what he'd said or focus enough to read his lips.

There was a sort of easy normalcy that came with the silence.

Yes, there was no question about it. Being deaf was bloody hard. But it wasn't as hard as it had been originally. The fact of the matter was that it couldn't be that hard anymore, because if it was, there'd be no way to handle it, so Gavin was forced to let go of the distant memory of sound and voices. Now, years later, he'd moved on and though it still absolutely sucked, it wasn't really that hard anymore. It was alright. Sucky, but unavoidably so.

He lay stretched across the couch, his head resting in Geoff's lap, his legs in Griffon's. It was this sort of thing, this sort of normal comfortableness that took a moment of reflection for him to realize that this wasn't normal for other families, but here, his eyes drifting shut as he tried to focus on reading the subtitles that came across on the newly hooked-up telly, it was hard to imagine anything different than the life he lived now.

He was nearly asleep, drifting between consciousness and unconsciousness, when Geoff tapped his arm twice, the signal they used in the house to say 'look here'. Gavin blinked his eyes open, looking up at Geoff, watching him talk, his hands just inches from Gavin's face.

"Do you want to go for a walk? Dan's on the phone with his family. I bet we can sneak out without anyone noticing."

Gavin's lips curled into a smile. Oh yes. He was all for anything devious-seeming-but-not-actually-devious. That seemed to be his area of specialty, after all. Griffon had gotten up to use the bathroom, leaving Gavin with Geoff. He stretched and Geoff offered his arm to him, Gavin grinning as he took it and rushed out the door with him.

If he had to make a list of the things he hated about being deaf, the fact that he'd never heard or would ever hear Geoff and Griffon's voices would be right at the top of it. He still remembered exactly how Geoff had described his voice-like the feel of sensitive skin running over rough sandpaper. Griffon had told him, laughing, that that was exactly how Geoff sounded, but with a higher-pitched still cracking voice. She'd also said that her voice was like a cat's tongue, though not quite like sand-paper. Gavin had appreciated the metaphor.

He didn't know when he'd stopped, but he no longer tried to hear voices in his head when he watched people speak. He just didn't bother with it anymore. Sometimes, though, he could almost imagine how Geoff and Griffon sounded. It just bloody sucked he'd never get to actually hear them. They'd only came into his life after everything was done. They, along with Dan (though he could remember what Dan sounded like), were the most important people in his life, and he'd never get to hear their voices. That was an old annoyance, though. He'd accepted a long time ago that he wouldn't hear anyone's voices anymore. Water under the bridge, or whatever the bloody saying was.

The heat had died down since that morning, leaving the air cool and dry against Gavin's skin. It wasn't calming, though. There he was, again. The boy from before, the angry looking one. The rest of the neighborhood had finally gone home since the Ramsey-family-spectacle had all gone inside for the night, but there that kid was again. From the looks of it, something was wrong. The air hanging around the street was cold and tension-filled, and Gavin could feel it, as well as see it, both in the faces of the kid on the other side of the street and in the face of the woman he seemed to be yelling at. It was dark, the only light coming from the dim streetlight on the corner of the street two houses down from Gavin's. Most other houses were dark or had the blinds pulled, leaving the four of them alone in the neighborhood.

He felt Geoff tense beside him, his body stiffening, confirming exactly what Gavin had thought. The two opposite them were screaming at each other, making the air charged with angry energy that Gavin couldn't ignore. He bemusedly wondered whether he'd be able to feel the echoes or the vibrations of the sound against the ground if he closed his eyes. He was curious, most of his apprehension about the kid having left him. Unlike earlier, he was focused on the woman Gavin assumed to be his mother, leaving Gavin free to observe him without being observed back. So he let himself look, barely able to see them in the darkness, even with his Deaf Perk heightened vision.

Two taps on his leg. Gavin glanced at Geoff, realizing that it'd only been a moment since they'd stepped outside in the first place.

"Let's go, Gav," He signed frantically, using his free-hand and utilizing the system of one-handed signing they'd devised over the years. Gavin hummed, the sound vibrating in his throat and not received by his useless ears. He let Geoff pull him away from the scene across the street and it wasn't until they were halfway down the block that he pinched Geoff to get his attention again.

"What were they talking about?"

They were out of sight of the warring pair. Gavin could finally enjoy the cool air on his face without all the angry tension radiating from the house opposite them. He raised an eyebrow, refusing to move along until Geoff answered him. With Geoff, things were different than how they were with Griffon or Dan. Gavin had connected immediately with Geoff, with the way he'd introduced himself as, "Would you like to play Halo with me? Oh, I'm Geoff by the way," and the way he was the only person who hadn't treated Gavin like a pet in an adoption center. He was a sort of security blanket for Gavin (he could thank Griffon for that term) and the person he was the closest to out of their odd little family. As a result, they had a sort of unspoken, unsigned communication, a communication of exchanged glances and physical contact. Gavin could feel completely at ease with Geoff, even out here in the open, where everyone could see him and treat him like a spectacle to look at.

Geoff just shook his head, and Gavin immediately understood. It wasn't a response of 'I'm not going to tell you', but a response of 'you don't want to know'. So Gavin let sleeping dogs lie, or whatever the bloody saying was.

\--- 

While Gavin's world was a world of silence, Dan's was a world of sound and lack thereof.

Lack thereof did not constitute as silence. Silence was what Gavin lived in. The lack of sound was simply just that. It was quiet. Not silent. Sometimes, he found himself wondering what it was like for Gavin, what it was like to live in a world where there wasn't ever any sort of noise. He wondered what it was like to be deaf, what it was like for that lack of noise to turn into true, absolute silence. He couldn't imagine it, nor would he ever want to.

Sometimes, though, Gavin was the least bit lucky to not be able to hear. One of those times was now, the screams of the woman across the street yelling at her son bleeding through the window Gavin had opened in their room before going out. The loudness would've been just background noise and Dan would've been able to easily ignore it if it hadn't been for the fact that the woman was complaining about them, telling her son to stay away from the weird family that'd just moved in, at which her son replied angrily that he was an adult and could do whatever he wanted. It was one of the rare times Dan was glad Gavin couldn't hear the conversation going on outside.

It was summer, hot and humid, and so stereotypically Texan that it almost made Dan want to laugh. All day Gavin had been pestering him with questions that would be concerning to anyone else such as 'Do you think the grass is wet enough to set on fire, B?' and 'What if we lit a golf ball on fire and then putted it in that Happy Gilmore way and filmed it?', which made Dan think he was taking the move pretty well. That was unsurprising, though. Since he'd gone deaf he'd gotten moved around a lot in his life. He was probably just used to it. For Dan himself, though, he was still a bit winded. America made him dizzy sometimes, even though he'd lived here for years.

He was alone for now, having finished on the phone with his family. Gavin and Geoff had wandered off to somewhere and Griffon was busy unpacking. Sure enough, she'd probably soon call Dan down to ask him about things and then heavily imply that she needed his help with some heavy-lifting, though she'd never outright ask. Four years of living with the Ramseys and Gavin had made him very used to their behaviors, though the reminder always lingered in the back of his mind that even though Geoff and Griffon were like second parents to him, that this was Gavin's family and he deserved to finally have his own.

Another thing he had to remind himself of was that in a little under a year, both he and Gavin would turn eighteen. Gavin wasn't the newly-turned twelve year old that had just lost his sense of hearing and Dan wasn't the naive kid who constantly struggled to communicate with others. They were older-almost adults-and things had changed a lot. Despite the fact that becoming a legal adult was a huge point in his life, Dan knew it really wouldn't change much. Even though Gavin was able to function by himself without Dan or one of the Ramseys by his side, he wouldn't go off on his own. Dan knew Gavin and Gavin couldn't be alone or live by himself. Dan would stick by him and that was just something Dan was willing to do. Gavin was his best friend, after all, and his translator of five years. He wasn't about to just leave Gavin, especially when there wasn't really a life he could imagine outside of being by his side.

"Dan, could you come help me with this?" Griffon's yell echoed off the walls, resounding through the emptiness of the new house, pulling Dan out of his thoughts. He made his way downstairs, the primary noise in the house again becoming the muffled yells from outside. At least without the open window he couldn't make out the words.

He arrived to see no less than he expected-Griffon surrounded by boxes and papers and scattered what-nots, looking as if she was struggling to put together what seemed to be a desk. "What, exactly, have you gotten yourself into?" He asked her with a sigh, kicking a few things aside to clear a path to get to her.

She just smiled at him, "Ikea directions, Dan. That's enough said."

They were a funny little family-Geoff, Griffon, and Gavin. When Dan had first moved in with him, a lot of things really confused him about the base two Ramseys. They were exotic, to say the least. Geoff played a vicious game of Halo, had full sleeve tattoos, and could honestly kick anyone's arse, but loved poetry, art, and did all the cooking for the family. Griffon, on the other hand, was a woman with an oddly welcoming smile to accompany a loud and extremely dangerous chainsaw with which she made her own art. At first, nothing had made sense with them. They were two very strange people who had full hearing ability, and yet they'd taken a newly deaf boy in as their son.

If there was one thing he could say about the Ramseys, it was that they were the most dedicated people Dan had ever met. If he could say another thing, he'd say that they were the most admirable people, as well. Dedicated didn't even begin to describe Geoff and Griffon. When Gavin had first been put into the foster care/adoption system, a system that had a bad rep even in the UK, Dan had nothing but bad thoughts and even worse expectations. People came to see in in the hospital and would either leave immediately, not wanting a deaf kid who they considered more work than he was worth, or would awkwardly try to strike up a conversation with him through writing. None of them had known how to communicate with him. It had been an extremely frustrating time for Dan, since he'd had to watch it all.

"Alright, let's see here," Dan crouched down beside Griffon.

She laughed, "I think I'm better at tearing things apart with a chainsaw than I am putting them together."

Until everything had happened with Gavin, Dan had been one of the many people who believed in the whole spiel they told kids in school.

The truth was harsh. It was horrid. It disgusted him even now. But the truth was that people didn't do jack shit unless they were forced to. The whole 'just tell someone' was bollocks. Kids didn't just tell someone and then everything was great. Unfortunately, as Dan had experienced second-hand, things didn't work that way. The only time anything was ever changed was when it got serious, which was the point that it would look bad if school or law officials didn't do something. Then there was the process of adoption and the nightmare that proceeded that: being put into the system and getting passed from one person to the next and, as Gavin had so eloquently put it all those years ago, 'getting looked at like you were some kind of stupid animal in a zoo'.

All that being said, Gavin had actually gotten lucky, despite his deafness.

Dedicated didn't even begin to describe Geoff and Griffon. They'd been one of the few couples who'd actually come to see Gavin at the rehabilitation centre and the moment they walked into the room they'd spoken to him in sign language, the only way he could communicate at that time, save for writing. They'd helped work with him and had talked to him like he was a real person. Again, as Gavin had put it, it was like they'd let him choose them instead of them picking him out to adopt. Their dedication towards him never lessened and neither did Dan's amazement at it. Even now, as he helped Griffon with the mess she'd made of what she was trying to put together, she signed each one of her words as she spoke, even though Gavin wasn't in the house.

They were certainly a weird family. They were really, really different from Dan's family back in the UK. But he couldn't pick out a single bad thing about them. Their life revolved around Gavin, and Gavin deserved a family like them.

It was that night that Dan was reminded that his life revolved around Gavin, as well.

He didn't mind. Much like the fact that even when they were adults he'd stay at his side, it was just something that was a fact, not a choice, and something he'd accepted a long time ago.

It was still burning hot outside, the window still open, the remnants of the argument dying down outside. They shared a room, he and Gavin, even though there were three bedrooms in the new house. They'd always shared a room. Gavin had returned just an hour previous, and Geoff had ducked his head in five minutes earlier to tell them it was time for bed and that they had to do foreign-people-registering-stuff early in the morning (his words, of course) and then flipped the light switch. It was at that moment that Dan started counting silently, waiting.

234

235

236

"Dan."

In the darkness, he heard the rustling of blankets, the quieting argument from outside, and the chirping of some asshole cricket on the other side of the opened window. Then, a patter of feet, quiet and stumbling the six foot distance between their beds. He no longer cringed at the sound of Gavin's voice like he had when Gavin had first tried talking while deaf. It was dark, almost pitch black with the door closed and light off, and yet, he was still able to reach out and guide Gavin up with him, just as he did every other night. It was something they never talked about, not because they were embarrassed or wanted to hide it, because it just was. It was normal.

It was at these times when Dan found it hard to believe that Gavin was seventeen. It was only during these times that he still reminded Dan of the kid who'd just gone deaf and was terrified of everything. It was just something that was.

In the darkness, Gavin was blind. In the darkness, Gavin had no idea of his surroundings. He couldn't see or hear anything. It left him without a way to communicate. It was because of that, because Dan could never imagine being like that, without any immediate awareness of surroundings or a way to understand them, that Dan could never blame him for being afraid. He pulled Gavin against him, letting him press his fingers against his lips in what Dan knew was an attempt to catch anything he said, and he drifted off like that, with his arms wrapped around Gavin in a way that was unspokenly not entirely platonic.

It wasn't until fall that things started to change for all of them.


	2. Fall I

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mixing Gavin Free and Michael Jones creates a volatile combination, learned the hard way.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [cross posted here!](http://gavirn.tumblr.com/post/64080967497/theory-of-sound-fall)

> _9/13/13_ by **MLPmichael** :
> 
> _Hey guys. I'm starting up school tomorrow. Won't be on much until the weekend. Hit me up on Skype._

Submit.

There. It was done. The last straws of freedom of the hot summer had just been cut. As soon as he hit submit, a feeling of stress washed over him and he watched his post go live on the site, his entire body tensing. He glanced up, towards the newly-occupied house on the opposite end of the street, not wanting to look at the rest of his summer freedom fluttering away on his phone in the form of a journal post. Sitting back, he let the tension radiate from him, allowing it to come off of him in wave after wave. He dropped his phone on the concrete stairs beside him and focused on the outside world.

He honestly felt like he hadn't been outside in a month. It'd probably really just been a week, but it was the same feeling of experiencing the world after being inside for so long. It wasn't a relieving feeling. He'd only left the house because he'd been forced to, because his mother wanted him out. She said she needed a breather from him, and Michael had no real place to go so here he fucking was, sitting on the stupid goddamn steps again, looking across the street at the house.

He hadn't seen them recently.

The rest of the neighborhood avoided them. Michael did, too. Or maybe-he didn't so much _avoid_ them as he just didn't go outside. He had seen them around after they moved in-the heavily tattooed guy walking at night with the mute kid on his arm, the woman covered in sawdust with the mute kid trailing behind her -but never for long and he'd never thought to interact with them. The rest of the people around didn't even acknowledge them, treating them with the same utter ignorance they treated Michael with.

He hated this place more than anything. That was a given, though. It was hell. People were judging. Anyone who didn't fit in with society was automatically shunned. That meant Michael, a seventeen year-old who spent most of his time playing video games and on the computer, who never went out with friends or out with girls, was left behind. It was the source of countless arguments with his mother, arguments that consisted of 'why don't you leave your room? What are you doing with your life? Why can't you be like _norma_ l kids?' and Michael yelling back that it was his life and he could do what he wanted. The rest of the people who lived in the area shut him out, turning their noses up and gossiping when his back was turned about the Jones boy who stayed inside and didn't even go out with girls. The fact that they thought he didn't know what they said about him made him even more irrationally angry.

His phone buzzed on the stone, the sound seemingly echoing through the neighborhood as Ray's annoying-as-hell text-tone sounded. Michael shut it up within the second.

> Ray 1:13 PM: yo saw your post on the site. you ready to return to the safe haven and accepting environment of our wonderful high school?
> 
> Michael 1:13 PM: shut the fuck up and at least let me enjoy this last day of freedom
> 
> Michael 1:13 PM: is gavino back on the site yet
> 
> Ray 1:14 PM: nah dggeoff is gone too gavino said he was in the process of moving though. not sure where dggeoff is
> 
> Michael 1:15 PM: he shouldve at least got someone else to moderate the forums while gavinos gone
> 
> Ray 1:15 PM: true
> 
> Ray 1:16 PM: ill be over in ten jersey boy
> 
> Michael 1:16 PM: why am i friends with you
> 
> Ray 1:17 PM: NO WAY IN, NO WAY OUT

He didn't even allow Ray the satisfaction of an annoyed 'fuck you'. Ray did what he wanted, no matter what Michael or anyone else told him. After a while, the people around him just stopped trying. At least he'd have someone to keep him company though his level of enjoyment wasn't optimal, since that company could show up at any minute speeding down the road screaming 'YOLO' out the window as the cops chased him. At least he would be hanging out with someone, which might subdue his mother at least for a little while.

So he waited. He listened for the tell-tale signs of either cops' sirens or tires squealing around the corner. He waited and waited, his eyes focused on the house opposite them. He hadn't seen _them_ much lately, but that was due to the fact that he hadn't actually been outdoors. His mother would sometimes talk about them to his brothers and Michael would overhear. She was just like everyone else-she gossiped nonstop, obsessed with the doings of the young tattooed couple and their children. It was annoying.

They kept to themselves for the most part, it seemed, staying away from the judging neighborhood. They were pretty quiet, too, though Michael had lingering suspicions that that was more due to the fact that they didn't speak out loud. He was curious about them and wary at the same time. He didn't quite understand why the smaller blonde kid with the big nose couldn't talk. He could be deaf, obviously, but that didn't seem likely with the way he was independent. Michael had seen him out and about by himself, too, without the tattooed guy. He wasn't what Michael expected in a deaf kid-there was no warning sign outside the house making drivers aware of a deaf kid nearby, there was no constant dependency on another person, there was nothing Michael expected-so the only reasonable conclusion to draw was just that he couldn't speak. The kid seemed perfectly aware of what was going on around him. He just didn't talk, and Michael couldn't find a reason why.

He'd zoned out, getting lost in his array of thoughts. It took the sound of a garage door opening to wake himself up, the noise of metal against metal screeching to his ears, making him flinch and look up.

Speak of the _fucking devil_.

Though the mute kid was independent, he rarely him without who Michael assumed to be his brother. The two of them came out of the garage, both dressed in ridiculous lab coats with safety glasses on their heads. Michael realized he was holding his breath and glanced behind him, tempted to head back inside, especially when he saw what the two of them were carrying—tennis rackets, petroleum, birdies, and the big nosed kid had a camera unlike any other Michael had ever seen. It left him with an impending sense of doom, wondering what _the fuck_ they were going to do.

He stayed put, but only for the simple reason that his mother had probably locked the door in order to force him to be normal for a day. Thus, he was stuck out here with these two kids who he was beginning to think were fucking _insane_. He had to just sit here and wait for Ray, whether he goddamned liked it or not.

As if on cue, the annoying text tone sounded again.

> Ray 1:21 PM: lets see a movie tonight. alamos playing some good stuff
> 
> Michael 1:21 PM: are you fucking texting and driving
> 
> Ray 1:21 PM: YOLO
> 
> Michael 1:22 PM: you only die once too so shut the fuck up and dont get pulled over or ill have to ride on the handlebars of your bike next time you pick me up
> 
> Ray: 1:23 PM: we both know im only on my second strike
> 
> Michael 1:23 PM: IT'S NOT A FUCKING THREE STRIKE SYSTEM RAY
> 
> Ray 1:23 PM: woah calm down there jersey boy

He didn't type a response back to him, mostly because he'd gotten too invested in watching the two across the street.

_What the fucking hell were they doing?_

He wished he could understand them, the way they did those weird hand motions to communicate. It was like a foreign language to him. He was on the outside looking in, watching them laugh and talk to each other by just moving their hands. The British kid laughed loudly, the smaller one silently, covering his mouth with a gloved hand so that no sound would actually escape him. For the life of him, Michael couldn't figure out what they were doing, but it was like a bad accident-he knew it wasn't going to turn out well, but he just couldn't look away. He stayed put, hoping desperately that Ray would come screeching down the street at any second.

The mute kid was setting up the camera, a huge professional looking thing with wires sticking out of it every which way, his companion busying himself by pouring petrol into the bucket. Fire. They were going to light something on fire in their front yard. This was perhaps the _stupidest_ thing Michael had ever seen.

His phone buzzed violently beside him, a different but equally as annoying text tone playing. Michael tore his gaze away to answer it.

"Ray, what-"

Ray didn't even let him finish, "I'm lost."

"You're _what_?!" He was distracted, no longer paying attention to the boys across the street, instead focused on Ray's stupidity and trying to come up with a logical explanation of how he could've possibly gotten lost when he'd driven to Michael's house about a thousand times.

"Lost," Ray replied, and Michael had the overwhelming urge to punch him in the fucking face.

And he didn't see the tall dark-haired British kid take a lighter to the tennis ball doused in petrol, and he didn't register the mute kid's odd-sounding countdown, and he didn't see anything until it was way, way too late, until it was already done and gone. He wasn't paying attention, focused only on the idiot on the other end of the phone.

"Where the hell are-"

This time, it wasn't Ray who cut him off. He stopped himself midsentence, falling silent and going wide-eyed. It was already too late to stop it. The tennis ball was aflame, the dark-haired kid wearing a gas mask without a canister, his arm off as he nearly completely missed the ball, sending it hard left-field and hurling straight at Michael.

There was nothing other than an accident that Michael could relate the feeling that followed to. He'd been in accidents when he was little, before he'd been able to drive and had had to rely on his parents to take him everywhere. He knew the feeling well. The feeling of knowing something really shitty was about to happen, the feeling of being able to (literally) see it flying right at him, the feeling of not being able to stop it-it was all very familiar to him. It was like being in shock, except he knew exactly how stupid he was being and was fully aware that yes, there was a flaming ball coming straight for him at high speed and yes, he wasn't getting out of the way. He told himself to run, to get out of the trajectory of the flaming tennis ball, but he just stayed put, unable to move.

He could hear Ray distantly yelling something, but the sound never quite reached his ears. There was other yelling, too, but Michael couldn't tell whose it was or what they were doing. Pounding feet on pavement, echoes throughout the neighborhood-he heard none of it until the ball his him straight on in the chest, a _thwack_ resounding through the street and knocking him back, forcing the air from his lungs.

His phone crashed against the pavement, probably breaking in the process. The cement of the stairs was hard against his back, the corner of the stair he'd fallen against digging into his spine. His mind seemed to realize nothing and suddenly he was on his feet and holy shit _was that fucking fire_ -

Rationality was slowly returning to him, though not as fast as he would've liked it to. _Yes_ , that was fucking fire. His shirt was on fire. His shirt was on fire and he was just standing there, dumbfounded and shocked as he watched the ball roll into the dry grass, immediately taking flame there, too.

His shirt was on fire.

 _He_ was on fire.

Holy shit.

The sudden realization finally, finally took hold in Michael's mind, making his instincts kick in at last. He panicked, and he ended up doing the first thing on his mind, which was, of course, what had been drilled into his head throughout elementary school. He stopped, rag-dolled to the ground, and rolled around on the fucking cement like the biggest goddamn idiot in the world. The time between being hit with the ball and finding himself rolling on the cement outside his house felt like it'd been hours, though as he fully came to his senses, he realized it'd only been a few seconds. The world started to return around him, the skin of his chest beginning to feel seared, his shirt blackened and with a hole in the middle.

Sound came back first. Yelling in a British voice, feet pounding, heavy breathing (he wasn't sure if it was his or someone else's) and finally, the high-pitched squeal of tires screaming against the road in retaliation against the breaks. Smell was next, the scent of ash and fire heavy in his nose, along with the smell of burnt skin and burning grass. Touch and then sight, the blue sky and Ray's face slowly coming into focus in his blurred vision. At last, he breathed, panic flowing out of him in waves.

"Holy shit, Michael."

" _Fuck_ ," Was all Michael could say back to him. He took Ray's outstretched hand and he hauled him up without much trouble, helping a still-winded Michael onto his feet and letting him lean on him.

The panic subsided, replaced by a completely different emotion as he looked at the scene in front of him. The two kids from across the street were here, in his yard, in their stupid lab coats and with safety goggles still strapped to their heads. One of them had found the hose Michael's mother used to water the plants and was dousing the fire with water, effectively putting it out. The mute kid was the one with the hose, he noted, the other one trying to stomp out the fires with his feet.

Dumb. Fucking. Idiots.

What _the hell_ had they been thinking? What the hell had they been planning? They had lit a tennis ball on _fire_ in their yard and had sent it flying towards Michael's _house_. Had they been trying to burn down the entire fucking neighborhood? He'd never seen a greater show of stupidity in his entire life, and that was _counting_ the time Ray had decided doing a movie-esque car-jump trick would be a wonderful idea. Never had he seen anyone stupider than these two, these two kids who'd just lit Michael on fire and burned up half his lawn. They were lucky the house hadn't caught.

"Michael, we need to go to the hospital-"

"Fuck no," Michael hissed through his teeth, not letting Ray say anything more. He wasn't going to the goddamn hospital. He was fine. The burns weren't serious. His clothes were in tatters, yes, but it had been a colder day and he'd been wearing a thick shirt, meaning that not a lot of his skin had been touched by the fire. He was fine. Winded and sore and a bit burnt, but fine. He'd rather give the two dumb fucks what was coming to them more than he'd want to go to the hospital.

God, he was angry.

Anger seemed to be Michael's middle name. Even the smallest things could send him into a mess of blind fury. That was how he'd been even in his childhood. Angry, angry, _angry_. It was part of the reason he stayed inside so much. People irritated him, making him not want to deal with them. He stayed in, not knowing how to be around others, preferring the people he met on the internet to the people he saw offline (excluding Ray, but even that was debatable). He probably wouldn't leave his computer if his mother and school didn't force him to.

For once, though, he actually had a good reason to be angry. After all, the mute idiot and his brother had hit him with a burning tennis ball and set his front lawn on fire. If the fire had been able to spread any more than it had, the entire house would most likely be up in flames.

"Hey. _Dumb-fucks_."

He called it out to them, his voice loud and not masking his seething anger. Ray muttered something along the lines of 'don't do this', but Michael didn't quite catch it or care, really. The taller one stopped what he was doing and looked at them, a dumbfounded and indescribably stupid look on his face. The other didn't even bother to look up, still watering out the remains of the flame that had burnt nearly half the grass in the yard.

He wasn't even looking at Michael. His hands curled into fists, his nails digging into his palms, a deep-seated rage settling within him. "Hey!" He shouted, the echo of his own voice returning to him seconds later. Still no response. His voice rose higher in volume still, enraged by the lack of response from the kid who'd just helped nearly burn his house down. "Hey! I'm talking to you!"

"Oh, come off it, now. He's _deaf_ ," The other kid spoke up, his voice strangely calm and heavily accented. He sounded more foreign than he had the first day they'd moved in. Even that sent prickles of annoyance down Michael's spine.

"Bullshit," He shouted back. He couldn't be deaf. If he was, he'd be the talk of the goddamn block. Ray grabbed his arm as he tried to step forward, as if to challenge them. By now, he'd finally garnered the mute kid's attention, though he remained as silent as ever. Michael pulled against Ray, desperate to gain some sort of leverage against them, but he was effectively held back from the fight he so desperately wanted.

The British kid had him fixed with a hard stare, "He's deaf. He can't hear you. Hey, we're sorry about the fire. It's all out now. Didn't mean to hit the ball over here."

Michael wasn't having it. He was angry and he didn't do things in this apologize and get off easy kind of bullshit way. It just wasn't the way he resolved things. He nodded towards the shorter of the two, his voice still strained in an echoing shout, "And him? Is he sorry too? You two nearly burned my fucking house down and he has nothing to say for himself? That's pretty fucking shitty, man." He tore his arm from Ray's grasp, ignoring the shout of protest from him. If nothing else, at least Ray tried to prevent fights, even when they were clearly due and needed.

"Dan."

The voice was quiet and struggling for tone, though still clear and understandable. It was the first time he'd heard the mute kid speak and it was all it took for him to realize that yes, he was deaf. He was deaf and it filled Michael with a sort of shock he'd never felt before and as he turned to him, he saw the exact opposite of what he'd been expecting. He met Michael's gaze full on, his eyes narrowed and an eyebrow raised in what looked to be a challenge. His arms were crossed, the hose forgotten at his feet. He could see him better now than he had at a distance. His dirty blonde hair stuck out in tufts in some weird European haircut, his skin tanned from the hot Austin sun, his body lanky and fucking skinny as hell. Worst of all, he reeked of that 'I don't care' attitude that Michael couldn't stand.

His companion-apparently Dan-turned to him, but the deaf kid didn't take his eyes off of Michael. "You're awfully red in the face. Were you shouting? Apparently not loud enough. I still couldn't hear you."

Michael cringed visibly at his voice. It could've been a lot worse, sure, but he was honestly intent on making him see that his speech wasn't the best. He was one of those snarky as hell kids, he could see it now, but his voice was more monotonous and he was visibly not used to pronouncing the words. The little pitch he did have betrayed some sort of English accent, as well, probably mirroring his companion's. He was understandable, sure, but some of his words ran together, making Michael have to strain to listen and catch everything.

"That was rude," He still watched Michael like a hawk, and he could only guess he was commenting on the cringing. "Whatever. Let's go, Dan.." He ignored Michael completely, stepping over the hose to tug at his brother's arm.

Before he knew it and before Ray could hold him back, he'd lunged forward, grabbing the kid by the collar, his hand raised. This kid. This _fucking kid_. He had the audacity to talk like that to him, deaf or not, and then just leave when he hadn't even apologized for setting fire to his property and even leaving burns on him. It was rude and insolent, and he wasn't about to let this kid go without a fight because _goddamn_ his skin hurt where he'd been burnt and holy shit his mother wouldn't let him back in the house after seeing her lawn and his hand was raised, curled into a fist, and he had the kid by the collar and-

He was deaf.

He was helpless.

He couldn't even speak correctly.

His last few sentences had been even more difficult to understand. It was obvious he wasn't used to speaking at all. His brother had apologized on his behalf, anyways. He could just tell them to clean up the yard and explain it to his mother. That would solve things. He wasn't going to beat the shit out of a deaf kid. That wasn't going to solve this problem and it wasn't going to solve any of his other issues.

The second he'd uncurled his fist, lowering his hand just a fraction, the other kid, Dan, crashed into him, knocking him flat on the ground with a strength Michael hadn't expected from him. The wind was knocked out of him, leaving him gasping for air again, lying on his back in the charred grass. The two headed back without another word and Ray was standing over him again.

"New neighbors?" Ray asked when Michael took his hand and let him pull him up.

"New neighbors," Michael agreed breathlessly.

-

Ray actually ended up driving him to the hospital to get his burn treated. It was minor, the ER nurses told him, praising him like a kid for doing what he'd been told to do when on fire. He was out within the hour with his chest treated and a medical bill to drop on the counter when he got home. He spent the rest of the day not thinking about what had happened, instead channeling his leftover frustration and anger into screaming at Ray to drive better and arguing with him over what movie to go see. His techniques of utter and complete ignorance worked pretty well and he even found that he was enjoying himself.

That was, of course, until he got home.

Walking through the shitty half-broken front door was always probably the biggest letdown ever. He never expected anything and yet, he was always disappointed. His mother was nowhere to be found, the lights in the house all shut off. The only indication that she remembered he was coming home was the unlocked front door. His stomach dropped as he walked through the door and he let it linger for a second before tossing the bill from the hospital on the cluttered counter, kicking his shoes off, and trekking up the creaking stairs. He found his door shut, just as he'd left it, and he pushed it open, ready to flop down on his bed and return to the comforts of his online friends and video games.

As soon as he saw that the inside of his room was not how he'd left it, he knew those plans were gone. It was a _disaster_ , a blatant attack on him. All his drawers were open, clothing pulled out of every single one and strewn across the floor. His posters were torn down and ripped apart. His dresser had been pushed over. His computer was on one side of the room and the monitor on the other. Blankets and sheets were pulled off his bed, his mattress having been pushed on the floor. And right there, in bright red fucking sharpie marker on his wall next to the open window were the words: _You're a bloody asshole. -Gavin._

His first question was not one he'd expect to ask in this situation: how the fuck had he gotten up here?

The open window answered that question. Next.

Secondly: _Why?_

It was then that he realized he was being baited. That shitty deaf kid had broken in and torn up his room and left a cryptic message telling it was him. There was no explanation of why. Just a disaster of a room and a name to put with a face. He was being baited. That kid wanted him to go to his house and further the conversation. Michael couldn't fathom why. He hadn't hit the kid. He'd calmed down. He hadn't done anything to him, really. So why, why the hell did he want to continue the fight? Why wouldn't he just let Michael be and consider himself lucky for getting off so easily?

He was being baited and yet, he was going to do it. There was no stopping it. He needed an explanation for this. With that, he soon found himself storming across the street, his front door slamming behind him. Gavin was already there, waiting for him, the worst shit-eating grin Michael had ever seen stretched right across that dumb face of his.

He was everything Michael hadn't expected in a deaf kid. Here he was, waiting for a fight alone on his front steps, a condescending smirk on his face, whiteboard in his hands. He'd spoken earlier-albeit not well-and he'd called Michael out on being rude and hadn't showed any fear, even when Michael had raised a hand to him. He was independent and seemed to be able to understand Michael without hearing him. Worst of all, he was arrogant as hell; Michael could tell without even knowing him for long. When he thought of a deaf person, this was definitely not the kind of person he thought of.

He could hear his own footsteps thundering as he walked the pavement to Gavin's house. The idiot himself twiddled his fingers at him in some sort of shitty wave. Michael stopped just a foot in front of the entry steps.

"You want to explain why the hell you tore up my _fucking room_?!" He went straight into yelling, feeling no guilt for doing so. Gavin again looked him straight in the eyes, and the scribbled something down on the whiteboard, holding it up for Michael to see.

_I thought you'd start with the general breaking and entering._

Fuck this. Fuck it all. He wasn't here to beat around the bush and play games. In all honesty, he should've called the police on this kid.

"What?! Are you not talking now?" He was angry, angry at anything and everything, all of it coming out now. Gavin was quick to write a response.

_I can't be bothered with it. Talking requires a lot of thinking._

He erased it and before Michael could say another word, he wrote something else out.

_Dan does most of my talking for me. Too bad he's not here. Keep it down so he doesn't come out._

Michael was tired of this. He spoke slowly, as if that would make him hear him better. Or at all, really. "Why. The fuck. Did you. Break. Into. My. House."

His response was just a stare, a long, judging stare that made Michael shift uncomfortably. After what felt like forever, he finally stood up, facing Michael, at eye-level with him. His whiteboard clattered to the ground, forgotten about. There was something about this situation, about that intimidating stare that made Michael think he wasn't getting into what he'd thought he was and he took a step back, glancing back at his own house before looking back at Gavin.

"I didn't do anything to you. _I backed down_ ," He had no idea why he was trying to defend himself when he hadn't really done anything in the first place. He'd overreacted, yes, but he had stopped himself and besides, this guy had broken into his house.

Gavin nodded, holding his gaze, speaking slowly, each word coming out with what sounded like recent practice, "Yes. You did nothing."

Michael was lost. "I didn't hit you. Hitting you would've been really shitty. I didn't do that. You had no reason to do what you did."

His next words were the last thing Michael expected to hear, "You didn't hit me because I'm deaf. If it had been any other person, you would've hit him."

He couldn't deny it. He hated this. He hated this conversation. He hated having to listen closely to catch what he said. He hated that he was right. He hated everything about this.

"That makes you a piece of shit."

Michael didn't even have the time to respond, because the next thing he felt was Gavin's fist slamming into his face.

\--

Dan was bloody strong.

If there was one thing Gavin had learned from this entire encounter, it'd be that. However, he did think it was going a little bit far to pick Gavin up, sling him over his shoulder, and then roughly throw him in the back seat when he'd refused to go with them to the hospital. He'd decided that that was probably going a little far and hadn't spoken a word since getting unceremoniously tossed into the car, neither aloud nor through his usual means of communication.

The thing Gavin hated the most about being deaf was speaking. He absolutely bloody _hated it_. At least through sign language and, by proxy, Dan, he knew each one of his words got across exactly how they were supposed to. When he spoke, he had no way of telling his tone or volume or if he was even pronouncing the words right. Geoff and Griffon-who was actually a certified speech therapist as well as an artist-were working with him on it, but even they couldn't change the fact that Gavin hated talking out loud. That was the reason he'd outright refused to get a different translator. He didn't have to speak with Dan as his interpreter. Dan had known him for nearly a decade. He was Gavin's voice.

That being said, he'd actually talked to the Jones boy today. First, it'd been out of necessity because he'd demanded that Gavin talk and then, it'd been out of spite, out of annoyance, out of the fact that he hadn't wanted Dan there to speak for him. It hadn't ended up well either time, but most of that was probably to blame on the fact that Gavin had broken into his house.

Punching him was probably considered going more overboard than Dan throwing him into the back of the car. He didn't exactly know what he'd planned to do once he called the Jones boy out on being a piece of shit, but punching him hadn't surprised him. It was obviously going too far, though. He'd broken into his house, after all. That alone had probably been enough payback, or at least in Dan and the Jones kid's eyes it should've been. Gavin always played by the rules, and (nearly?) breaking his nose had been his idea of giving him what he had coming. It was an eye-for-an-eye sort of deal. He'd refused to punch Gavin because he'd seen him as the innocent and helpless deaf boy, so Gavin had gotten him back by showing him the exact opposite and doing what he'd refused to do to him. That was his idea of playing by the rules-giving arseholes like him what they bloody deserved.

It might've been going overboard, though. Just a little. Especially since Gavin hadn't just hit him once.

Michael was his name, as Gavin had learned from watching him talk with (shout at) Dan. Dan had heard what had happened, since Michael had apparently screamed bloody murder when Gavin threw the first few punches, and had come running outside, pulling Gavin off of him. He'd refused to help take Michael to the hospital, wanting no part in anything to do with him, but Dan had picked him up like he weighed nothing and the next thing he knew, his back hit the backseat cushions and he felt the vibrations of Dan slamming the door behind him.

They were en route to the hospital now, Dan clutching the wheel of the steering wheel until his knuckles turned white, Michael red-faced, probably shouting, and nursing a nose that was spewing blood. Gavin sat behind Dan, not caring to watch the two of them talk, instead focusing his attention out the window.

He usually liked car rides a lot. He liked to feel the vibrations beneath his feet and hands, the rattling of the car in time with the engine. He didn't drive himself. He very well could if he wanted to. Deaf people were allowed to have licenses. He just didn't enjoy driving, finding it boring and lacking in his type of constantly needed stimulation. Dan drove, anyways. Even if he didn't like driving, he still liked car rides, and he found himself thinking back to how Griffon and Geoff had found a way to get him to sleep when he'd first come to live with them. The vibrations of the car used to help put him to sleep, even making his eyes droop now, and Geoff would drive around whatever town they lived in until Gavin fell asleep, at which point he'd carry him back inside and put him to bed. He thought back to that, to those car rides that had helped him be less afraid to sleep, shutting out the world around him.

He really only regretted it for two reasons.

One: Michael could press charges. He wouldn't, Gavin knew, but there was still that possibility hanging in the air.

And two: Geoff and Griffon would be disappointed.

That was the thing about them. They didn't get mad. They didn't threaten or intimidate or physically punish him. They just got disappointed, which, Gavin could argue, was ten times worse than anything else. Really, he was a good kid. He was bloody lucky and he didn't take that for granted. He didn't do much to disappoint them. Sure, he'd set the lawn on fire occasionally or pull dumb pranks, but those usually warranted a 'goddammit, Gavin' and a broom and dustpan getting handed to him. The select few times he actually had done something really, really shitty, though, something like this, Geoff and Griffon sat him down and just talked with him. He hated disappointing them, because of the simple reason that he didn't take them for granted and knew how much they did for him. Needless to say, he was not looking forward to that conversation.

Pulling off the breaking and entering had been ridiculously simple. It was pretty easy to guess which room was Michael's, from what he could see through the windows, and it just required him to quickly and quietly climb the tree outside, open the unlocked window, and swing himself in. He'd wrecked the room, leaving his signature written on the wall and had then gone back home. Dan hadn't known. Geoff and Griffon had been (and still were) finishing up registration for school. No one had known, which honestly made Gavin feel prickles of guilt, since Geoff and Griffon had been out all day and would come back to this.

Dan was mad too, though that didn't count as one of the reasons Gavin regretted punching out Michael Jones. Dan wasn't one to get angry often and he also wasn't one to hold a grudge long, especially against Gavin. Dan would get over it. At this point, nothing Gavin could do really had the power to hurt their relationship. He knew just as well as Dan did that things would blow over soon enough.

That being said, the silent treatment still bloody sucked. He tapped Dan on the shoulder, trying to get him to turn around so he could tell him to say something to Michael. He wasn't up to actually speaking, preferring not to do so unless actually and completely necessary. Dan didn't turn around, though, only clutching the steering wheel harder. He tried once more, again to no avail. Annoyed, he sat back, quickly grew bored of watching the window, and tapped him on the shoulder again.

The funny thing about being deaf was that Gavin would deny the fact that he couldn't hear, not only because it would confuse and irritate people, but also because he'd learned to hear through touch.

He felt the traction of the tires halting against the pavement, sending him forward, his head colliding with the seat in front of him. He felt the seatbelt locking against him, holding him in place. He felt the vibrations of the engine, singing a different tune from when it had been forcing the car to move, a dull shake beneath Gavin's feet. They'd stopped and in an instant, they started moving again, slowly, Dan maneuvering the car onto the shoulder and then stopping again. After that, nothing.

And in a second, Dan had whipped around, signing a clear command to Gavin.

"Out."

Gavin raised an eyebrow, "What?"

Dan grabbed his hands, making Gavin jerk back, silenced before he could say more. He repeated the command, Gavin lipreading it, watching as the Jones boy flinched from Dan's apparent tone. He guessed he was probably yelling. He pulled from Dan's bruising grasp, reached for his seatbelt, and swung himself out of the car, no questions asked. Just as he'd expected, Dan followed him. Michael stayed in the car.

The air was bloody cold, the gravel under Gavin's feet rattling and shaking like a minor earthquake every time a car rushed past, the lights blazing red and white as they sped by. The wind picked up whenever someone drove anywhere near them, causing a shiver the tremble its way down his spine. The cold bit at him, making him cross his arms and shake for perhaps the first time since coming to this damn state. He leaned against the car, the familiar vibrations from it making him feel just a bit calmer. It wasn't that he was panicking. He just didn't want to deal with this and he disliked being scolded, especially by Dan. He knew he'd done a bloody stupid thing. He didn't have to tell him what he already knew.

Dan just stood there, facing him, giving him that look. That was all he did for a moment, giving him such a look of anger and disbelief, and though Gavin was one to have an intimidating and cold stare, this made even him a little uncomfortable. He wanted to tell Dan to just get on with it, rather than beating around the bush.

Finally, after what seemed to be forever of the two of them standing alone on the side of the highway, Dan's hands moved angrily, clumsily, finally speaking to Gavin, "Goddamn, what, exactly, where you thinking?"

Because he was a little shit, he just replied with an irritatingly simple, "What do you mean?"

"You bloody beat the hell out of that kid! You broke into his house and then you broke his nose," If there was a way to yell in sign language, that would be Dan at that very moment, every word fast and clumsy in his anger. At any other time, Gavin would've found it amusing. He didn't now, though. "What the hell were you thinking?"

"He pitied me!" Gavin immediately responded. Putting thoughts into words had always been difficult for him. He was fully aware of how childish he sounded. "He would've hit me if he didn't know I was deaf!"

"That makes him a shitty person, yes, but it doesn't warrant you breaking in and then beating him up!"

Gavin had a hard time winning fights with Dan. They knew each other too well. Everything he said just made him angrier, riling him in a way Gavin tried not to show, "What was I supposed to do, then? Let him get away with that? I got my message across."

The fury written all over Dan's face grew with every exchange of words, as well, "You got the message across and now you're no better than him."

That was it. He wasn't doing this any longer. He was done. He wasn't a shitty person. He'd played by the rules. He might've gone a little overboard, but at least it was within what Michael had deserved. He didn't want to talk to Dan about it anymore and he didn't want to see the Jones boy anymore tonight. He was going home. He'd walk there. He didn't care. He turned and started walking away, without another thought or word. He only got a few steps before Dan grabbed his arm and glared at him for a few seconds. The next thing he felt was Dan's arm around his waist, the lack of ground under his feet, and being thrown over his interpreter's shoulder again. He kicked, clawing at his back, though it was to be expected and he knew he wasn't going to be let down. The worst part was that Dan wasn't even that much bigger than him.

Again he was thrown into the backseat, even more roughly this time, and he watched Dan throw the door shut, leaving him feeling annoyed and resigned.

\--

Dan knew he wouldn't stay angry at Gavin.

He knew he couldn't. He knew it just wasn't possible. And he knew he'd forgiven him as soon as Gavin walked into their room, a strange slowness to his walk and a refusal to look at Dan. It was that moment when he knew that today was finally over, that the Ramseys had gotten to Gavin, that their disappointment in him was more effective than any punishment he'd ever received from his old family. He knew with certainty that they had gotten to Gavin and pulled his reasoning from him and had gotten straight to the real problem and found a solution with him. All he could do was let Gavin sit silently and by himself in the bathroom connected to the room for a few minutes before entering and seeing him sat on the floor, his guard let down for once, his head down.

He'd known Gavin for close to a decade. One thing he knew about him was that Gavin was outwardly outgoing, confident, and mischievous. That wasn't really a facade-but Gavin was good at not putting out his real emotions for the world to see. Over the years, Dan had learned that Gavin actually needed people a lot and that he was actually anxious and hated being alone. Seeing him like this-alone and with his guard down-was rare and unsurprising after his talk with the Ramseys.

In the beginning, Dan had been just like everyone else. He'd pitied Gavin, constantly feeling sorry for him and trying to help him with everything. It had built a wall between them, making them unable to communicate, the source of hours of sitting in silence in his room at the rehabilitation center, unable to even look at him. If Gavin hadn't forced him to realize that he wasn't useless or weak, they wouldn't be friends. The fact of the matter was that Gavin's deafness was a part of him, but it didn't define him. He could still do everything he'd been able to before. He'd just had to learn different ways to accomplish him. He wasn't someone who put up with being pitied, and Dan understood why, since that really just dragged him down. Even if he was angry at him for pulling the shit he had, he did understand why he did it.

Gavin was a good kid, really. It was hard to believe with all the stuff that had happened today, but he was. He hardly ever pulled stunts like this, and even Dan couldn't blame him, since that Michael kid had been a rude shit and Gavin was manipulative by-nature and hated people pitying him for being deaf. The two of them were a hostile and volatile combination, if today's casualties (two trips to the hospital, one burned yard, two crimes committed by Gavin, and one set of adoptive parents who had to deal with it all) had anything to say about it. He also knew that this wasn't the end of conflict between them, that more would come eventually.

But for now-

Gavin was upset and that was what was most important now.

With a sigh, Dan pulled him to his feet and found himself pulling Gavin against him for the physical contact he knew Gavin needed, even if he would never admit to such. He felt small in his arms, almost like he was young again, instead of the seventeen year-old who was just a couple inches shorter than him. Gavin would never forgive him if he said it, but him like this almost reminded him a lot of the child he'd been. It meant he still had that fear inside him, still had that underlying need to please his parents and got upset when he didn't. All he could do was stand here, silently, remembering again, as if he'd forgotten, that it was partially because of that need and fear that he wouldn't be able to hear any comforting words Dan said to him.

And it wasn't until later, until Gavin was busying himself by posting the video they'd made with the flaming tennis ball that he recalled that tomorrow would be just as bad as today was, if not worse.

Tomorrow was the start of the school year and thus, the start of fall in the minds of Gavin, Dan, and Michael.


	3. Fall II

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Gavin goes out of his way to make Michael’s life hell and Dan takes matters into his own hands, along with Gavin discovering the popularity of slow-motion on the internet.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the long chapter--
> 
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> 
> [Cross posted here!](http://gavirn.tumblr.com/post/64636873368/theory-of-sound-fall-ii)

> 9/14/13 written by **GavinoFree** (moderator):
> 
> _I'm back! Geoff's back, too. Our new house hasn't had internet and we just got it up last night. Anyways, I'll be getting things back on track with the forums, Ben's been working on new site updates, and Geoff's almost ready to announce the next season. Now everyone can stop bothering him and Burnie about it. Seriously, Burnie started a drinking game and takes a shot every time someone asks him. Don't help kill his liver._
> 
> 9/14/13 comment by **MLPmichael** :
> 
> _Holy shit, dude, you know Dggeoff? Also, welcome back. Forum's have been rampant without you._
> 
> 9/14/13 reply to **MLPmichael** written by **BlawnDee** :
> 
> _Christ, Michael, how new are you? Everyone know's Gavino's Geoff's son!_

This couldn't be happening.

This literally could not be bloody happening. There was no way, no way at all. It was completely and absolutely impossible. He had to be seeing things.

There was no way that in less than nine hours that video could've gotten a hundred thousand views.

When he'd written that script, when he'd practiced speaking for hours and hours, trying to get the tone and the volume and the voice right, when he'd edited and posted the footage—he'd expected maybe ten thousand in a week. He'd never imagined this. It was six in the goddamn morning. He'd uploaded that video eight hours ago. Dan was still asleep, the blankets beside him disheveled from where Gavin had crawled out after not being able to sleep anymore. Eight hours. A hundred thousand views. There was no way. It was just—it was just a video about the two of them acting like dolts for the camera, playing loosely on a script, and then Dan hitting a flaming tennis ball in slow motion. There was no way that could've garnered so many views.

The number was right there, though, all six figures of it. A hundred thousand people had watched that video in less than nine hours. Comments were coming in through the second and Gavin dared to glance down at them, reading them as they came in, leaving him shocked at what he saw. No one was commenting on his speech. No one was asking him why the kid with the big nose didn't talk right. No one was guessing that he was deaf. No one could tell. He'd practiced for hours and hours with Griffon and Dan before filming the introduction in the backyard. He'd worried constantly, giving the footage to Geoff and asking him if he sounded alright, and he'd definitely expected to get some bad comments on it from people on the internet. He saw none of that, though.

He didn't know how long he stared at the flood of incoming comments before he closed the window, going back to his journal he'd written a few minutes before. Comments were coming in there, too, though at a slower rate. He expected that, though—he was a site moderator and friends with nearly everyone on it. Briefly, he wondered if he should post a link to the video, then decided against it, since he didn't have much time. Today would be the first time he'd be going back to public school since he was twelve. That was arguably more important than the astronomical amount of views on his video.

Still—

He wanted to show Geoff.

For a moment, he hesitated. He wasn't an idiot. He knew Geoff wasn't angry at him or anything from last night. The three of them had gotten things sorted out, just like always, and things were alright. Even though things were alright, Geoff had put up with a lot last night and Gavin didn't exactly want to bother him more by waking him up in the arse of the morning. His hesitation still disappeared, though, because this was bloody important and he'd be getting up in an hour anyways.

So, with that, he found himself tiptoeing to the closed door of Geoff and Griffon's room, cracking the door open to peek inside. They were both still asleep and Gavin considered leaving them alone for another hour of peace. He wasn't like that, though, and even if his goal wasn't, for once, to annoy other people, he wasn't about to go back on what he'd convinced himself to do in the first place. Without another thought, he slipped into the room, stepped back, and launched himself onto the bed, straight onto Geoff in what he considered to be his own special type of wake-up call. Geoff startled, probably yelling and Gavin fumbled with his phone, shaking him into consciousness before shoving it into his face.

Geoff just stared at him, clearly and utterly confused, and then glanced down, his usually-tired eyes going wide at the sight of Gavin's video and the number of views on it, giving Gavin himself some sort of odd satisfaction. He smiled down at Geoff, his smile his usual proud little smirk that usually made Dan demand him to say what he was up to. Geoff looked down at the video and then back up at Gavin again as if to confirm if what he saw was right. Gavin watched his lips move, hanging onto every single unhearable word.

"Damn, dude. That's a lot of views."

\---

"What the hell happened to you, Jersey?!"

Michael slammed the door to Ray's truck, the entire vehicle rattling and shuttering as he did. His curly russet hair stuck uncomfortably to his neck and forehead, his glasses streaked with rain water. Drops of rain thundered on the roof of the truck, drenching anything and everything. Michael huffed, buckling himself in and swinging his bag onto the floor by his feet, "I don't want to fucking talk about it."

There was a giant goddamn bandage on his nose, another on his cheek, and his eye dark with the poorly attempted try to cover up the black eye with his mother's concealer. The nurses had informed him last night that congratulations, even though his nose was fucking crooked and pouring more blood than the sky poured rain, he was A-fucking-okay. Wonderful. Now he just looked like he'd gotten his shit kicked in by a football player. The worst part? He couldn't tell anyone that he'd gotten beat up by a deaf kid just because he'd refused to punch him earlier. It sucked and his nose hurt from where said kid's fist had landed multiple times. His chest also ached from being hit with a goddamn flaming tennis ball, and his cheek hurt from where he'd gotten knocked into the pavement after being punched. On top of all that, the weather had decided to be a complete asshole and rain on Michael's already shit on parade.

"You look like someone beat the hell out of you." Reason number one Ray was the most annoying person Michael had ever met: he had no idea when to shut the fuck up. That led right into reason number two: he was a persistent shit-head who would never give up, which was why Michael caved. Ray would be at it all day if he didn't.

"Drive," Michael sighed, sitting back, finally relaxing as Ray got the car moving. He drove down the street, Michael glancing out his window at the house across the street. His hand curled into a fist, nails digging into his palm, "That kid from yesterday beat the shit out of me."

There was one thing about Ray that Michael did like. That was that he wasn't a gossiper. Secrets were actually safe with him. It was ironic, taking into account how much he loved to talk and never seemed to shut his goddamn mouth, but it was true, and probably one of the main reasons Ray was still his friend. He was a risk-taking shallow idiot, but he was still Michael's friend and he didn't go around spilling his secrets to other people. Michael could at least trust him with this.

The truck came screeching to a halt at the stop sign at the end of the road. Michael couldn't tell if it was from shock or not, but as soon as he stopped gripping the safety bars above the door and looked at Ray, he could see that shock played at least a part of it. "The deaf kid?" Ray sounded like he couldn't believe it. Michael raised an eyebrow, warning him wordlessly to watch his step. "Sorry, Michael. Just didn't expect that, y'know? Anyways, did you get on the site this morning?"

Now that was something Michael could talk about.

He instantly lightened up, relaxing again, "Yeah. Gavino's back. Did you see what Barbara told me?"

Ray wasn't Michael's only friend. He had a lot of online friends, people he'd met through Red Vs. Blue, a webshow that was just finishing its second season. The show was posted on a site with forums, which allowed Michael to meet other people who liked it, as well. He was a little new, having just joined before the summer ended, but he'd met a lot of people on it. People he actually liked, that was. He wasn't lonely or friendless—at least not anymore. It was his reasoning for staying on the computer so much, for hardly ever leaving his room. He was fine with it, but his mother didn't seem to understand.

Their conversation continued, Michael gradually getting more and more at ease. When they finally pulled into the parking lot of the high school, Michael had officially accepted his fate and only let out a heavy sigh and hauled his bag out of the car. There wasn't much he could do. It was the start of their senior year. He had to accept it and power through it. As Ray would say, yolo.

\--

They were an odd pair, Ray and Michael. It was safe to say that no one had expected the fast-talking obnoxious daredevil to become friends with the quiet angry Michael Jones. They were a sight to see, too—Ray at least two inches shorter than Michael, dark-haired and of Puerto-Rican descent, and notorious for getting infamously bad haircuts, and Michael, who had what girls called a baby-face spotted with freckles, curly russet hair, and stayed quiet most of the time in school. Ray was loud, calling out greetings to people down the hall, flirting with girls, joking around with people. He swept people up in his excitement and even Michael got into it, too, laughing and smiling with him.

He wasn't one of those creepily quiet kids. He talked to people in the hallways, of course, and made small talk. He had acquaintances and enemies, but he never really got close to anyone, preferring to keep to the back and not go out of his way to be overly-friendly with people. These were people he'd been going to school with for nearly twelve years. It was the way things worked. He was comfortable with it, and any disruption of the social order of things in the high school wouldn't lead to anything good. Year after year, people remained ultimately the same, with Michael still quiet and angry and not doing anything to change his reputation of being so.

Even here, he was seen as the angry kid. Short-fused Michael who could yell so loud that anyone standing next to him would lose a few decibels of hearing. He'd been in his fair amount of fights due to the fact that anyone could set him off at any time, resulting in a few suspensions and the threat of expulsion. Hearing about Michael Jones getting into a fight was no surprise, but it was clearly a surprise to see him walk in the first day having obviously gotten the shit kicked out of him shortly before.

"Ray Narvaez is taking college level literature? Unheard of," Michael feigned surprise, glancing over Ray's class schedule as they walked together to the west wing of the building. "Luckily for you, you have me to copy off of."

Classes with friends had a certain charm that wore off after four years. To the freshman hugging and jumping around each other, it was still apparently really fucking exciting, while he had to fake surprise when he saw he and Ray shared first period together. Ray just punched him in the shoulder, "No need to show off your smarts, Mr. Straight-A's-and-Almost-Expelled.

If anything, that was a feat that most other kids couldn't say they had. It was a big school in a big city. There were a lot of trouble makers and there were a lot of really fucking smart kids. Michael was one of the rare both. He got into fights, winding up suspended three different times in the past school year, but they couldn't kick him out due to the fact that Michael had a near-perfect GPA and exceedingly high test scores. He brought up the average scores for his grade significantly by being an extreme outlier in their data. They'd never told him why or given him any indication as to why he wasn't expelled, but it wasn't hard to figure out. It was a kind of security. He happened to just be good at testing and it gave him an immunity of sorts.

The west wing was crowded as ever, despite the fact that it was mostly populated by seniors. The college level courses and advanced placement were all down here, with juniors and seniors littering the hall, all less than enthusiastic to be back, Michael included. School was just irritating to him. It took up a lot of his time, forcing him to be in a prison-like building for six hours a day with a bunch of other fucking fucks who smelled like piss and desperation. He'd rather just get this year over with and not come back. He was so unenthused by school that he hadn't even really glanced over his schedule, figuring he'd just wing it as he went.

234

235

236

Michael counted the doors as they walked past, only half listening to Ray's babbling, unsure of what he was even talking about. It was background noise to him, something familiar against the boring murmur of school. It was a boring start to a boring year in a boring school with boring people. As usual, nothing and no one was going to change. It'd be the same as always.

"This must be—"

It was the right room. 237. The door was open, most of the small class already in. The sign above the door announced the course name, confirming that this was the right room. Familiar advanced students lingered in the classroom, catching up, gossiping to each other in low voices and then—sitting in in the third row from the back near the windows, leaning back in his chair—

Gavin. The goddamn deaf kid from across the street who'd punched him out yesterday. Right here, all blood, flesh, and stupid European haircut. In the desk pushed against his was part two of the idiotic dynamic duo—Dan, who'd pulled Gavin off of Michael and driven him to the hospital the night before. Not as bad as Deaf British Kid, but still not good. The sight of the two of them, right here, in Michael's school, in his class, made him stop dead in the doorway, staring wide-eyed, holding Gavin's gaze and remembering how much he hated that fucking shit-eating smirk he had, the one where he closed his eyes partly and focused his narrowed stare on him in the most condescending way possible whilst wearing a half-smile.

He couldn't be here. This couldn't be happening. Not here, not now. There were special school—special classes!—for kids like him. He shouldn't be here, invading Michael's place, in the advanced classes that made Michael hate school just a little bit less. He didn't belong here. Austin was a big city. He was sure there were schools for disabled kids. So why, why of all the goddamn schools in the city, had he come here? Was this some sort of shitty 'we-want-our-kid-to-be-normal' tirade from his parents? All of it was shit, just a big fucking pile of shit and he wanted no part of it. This was his place and it was being intruded upon by someone who didn't belong in it.

"Michael." Ray had fallen silent beside him, most likely recognizing the two from seeing them yesterday. He said his name like a caution, a warning, a reminder to stay calm. Distantly, the bell rang, everyone hurrying to their seats, some sparing prolonged glances at Michael's bruised face. Finally, he forced himself to move, Ray tailing him, ending up in the seat beside the window with Ray behind him, Gavin and his brother in the row next to them. He glanced over, looking around the class, recognizing almost everyone with the one or two exceptions of a junior he didn't know. He started to calm down, starting to relax back into his seat as the teacher walked in, announcing his presence and immediately starting on a lecture of rules and expectations and—

_Your face looks better that way._

He caught the blue post-it note out of the corner of his eye, having to look towards it to read it. Gavin held it up, giving him an innocent smile as he did, a smile that quickly stretched into a silent laugh. He had to put his hand over his mouth to prevent the escape of any sound. No one else in the class noticed, but god, it made Michael angry, making him want to lunge across the few feet that separated them and grab the kid by the fucking shirt, but he wouldn't. He wouldn't because it was the first day of school, because they were in class, but if it had been any other day, any other place, he would've done it. He was obviously not sorry about beating the shit out of Michael, even laughing about it here where anyone could see.

It took Ray's hand on his shoulder to force him to relax again and even then, he spent the rest of the class fuming. It was going to be a long year.

\--

The door to the guidance office slammed open, crashing into the wall and shaking on its hinges, making the kids sitting waiting in the office jump as Michael stormed in, every step thundering and angry, angry, angry. The secretary glared at him, starting to scold him, but Michael walked right past her and to the room he knew too well—to the room of Samuel Young, his guidance consoler. He knew exactly where it was, having been here too many times to not, and every time, it started out and turned out ugly. This visit would be no exception to that rule.

Young himself was with a student but upon seeing Michael fuming in his doorway, immediately sent them out, leaving Michael to yell, scream, and fight all he wanted.

He didn't move out of the doorway, his voice raising to levels that would be heard on the second and third floors, his trademark rage, "Fucking advanced sign language?! What kind of a bullshit class is that! I didn't sign up for this!"

"Michael," He was defensive, as always, getting out of his seat and holding his hands up. "Michael, please. I thought it'd be fitting for you instead of another study hall."

"What does that mean?!" He'd discovered the class on his schedule during the passing period between second and third. He'd had Gavin and, by proxy, Dan in his second hour, too, which alone left him annoyed and wanting to fucking punch something. It was right there, written on his schedule, a seemingly last minute change he hadn't noticed before. He hadn't even known they had a sign language class, much less an advanced one. It was like the big, final 'fuck you' to him, shoving him down and refusing to let him get away from the stupid maniac who lived across the street. Two classes (at least) with him and now another class that would constantly remind him of him. That was one big middle finger pointed straight at him.

"It means," There was one thing about the guidance consoler that Michael considered amazing. He stayed calm in any and all situations. "It means that I thought it would be a good and challenging enough outlet for you."

Michael shook his head, his hand a fist on the doorway, "Bullshit. You put me in it because I live across the street from that deaf kid." Silence. Got him.

"Well, that might've been a contributing factor. Michael, please," God, he hated it when teachers begged and then talked like they knew the best thing for him. It was frustrating and it just made Michael's anger worse. Still, he let Young make his case, knowing that because he was authority, he'd do what he wanted anyways, "If you're not in it, we'll lose the class. With you there's just enough people."

He wanted to call bullshit, wanting to scream and argue with him, but he didn't. It was useless, anyways. He wasn't getting out of the goddamn class, no matter how much he wanted to. Young wouldn't let him. Instead, he tried to compromise, his voice falling to a more acceptable level of volume, "Could you move me into a different period of literature, then? There's some kids in there I've made enemies with." If he was going to take the stupid fucking sign language class, he at least wanted something out of the deal and he wasn't going down without it.

Instead, Young shook his head, "Sorry, Michael. The only other period for that class is fifth. You have a schedule conflict."

Michael glanced down at his crumpled schedule in his hand, looking to see what class it conflicted with and when he found it, he tried to think of how, possibly, this day could get worse. Of course. He couldn't switch out of first period literature with that little shit because his fifth hour was fucking advanced sign language. How ironic.

This was going to be a very, very long year and he was not looking forward to any part of it.

\---

The video reached five hundred thousand views by noon. He got an email about partnership at the end of his lunch-hour. By the end of the school day, it was at a million and featured on the front page of youtube.

School was exactly how Gavin had thought it'd be—boring, long, and filled with awkward kids and fed-up teachers. The school had worked out a special arrangement that allowed Dan to be in each one of his classes with him and act as his interpreter. He was Gavin's voice, the person who he trusted to take his hand motions and speak his words in exactly the way he wanted him to. The higher-ups in the school had originally wanted to stick him with an adult translator but as always, Gavin had refused. As a result, while most of the teachers were aware of his deafness, the kids were not and spoke to him normally, which was exactly how he wanted it.

It was a long, drawn out day and uninteresting, as well, but it didn't leave Gavin disappointed. He'd expected such and if anything, what he felt was the opposite of disappointment. This year was the first time he'd been in public school in five years and the first time ever in America. The past five years had been a mix of homeschooling, online school, and deaf-blind schools that were probably the least preferable out of the three. He was happy to be back in public school and it gave him the chance to finally associate with other kids his age that actually lived near him and not halfway across the world, as most of his internet friends did.

A lot of the other kids in his classes shied away from him—another thing to be expected. It was really obvious that the good majority of them had never seen a deaf kid and thus, it was shocking and bloody unfathomable that he was in school with them, a kid with a disability that had only been a myth to them. Shocking. Also, amusing. He watched them struggle to speak to him, clearly speaking slowly, as if that'd make him able to hear. In truth, it just made it harder for him to lipread, which was one of the reasons Dan also signed out everything they said, translating it for Gavin. It was hard to keep himself from laughing, especially as he watched them awkwardly try to figure out whether to address him or his interpreter.

They'd warm up eventually and get used to him. As soon as they figured out that his deafness really wasn't that big of a deal, they'd adjust. That was the way it was with nearly everyone Gavin met. It was frustrating and annoying, sure, watching them dance around and try to figure out how to communicate with him, but it was something he was forced to deal with, so getting irritated every time someone was awkward with him would just be a waste of time. It was because they all viewed his inability to hear as something huge and unsettling and they made themselves change how they acted because of it. Once they learned that it wasn't some big white elephant in the room, they'd figure out how to communicate with him. Until then, though, he'd just have to deal with this.

Other than that—public school was alright. It was a lot different from deaf-blind school, something Gavin was grateful for. As a rule, he refused to be pitied and treated differently for not being able to hear and in his mind, deaf-blind schools sort of violated that. It was also different than British public school, so it was an overall new experience, though not unwelcomed. However, something had surprised him about it—the fact that he had Michael Jones in a good portion of his classes.

The thing about Gavin was that he was intelligent. That wasn't his opinion. Placement tests had showed that. To no shock, Griffon and Geoff were really good teachers and the people who taught the almost completely self-study online classes were alright, too. It had thrown Gavin and Dan both into advanced courses, automatically putting them on track for university-after-graduation. Never had he expected Michael Jones to be in the same place.

Yesterday, when he'd met Michael, he'd made a lot of assumptions. After years of people-watching his assumptions were usually pretty accurate, though, as it turned out, not this time. He'd expected the angry and violent Michael to also be unintelligent and held-back. The exact opposite was true, making Gavin's assumptions of angry-equals-stupid false. Instead, Michael was in a majority of his classes, much to Michael's obvious discontent. Gavin wasn't totally displeased, though. As he'd seen this morning, Michael's face was pretty badly bruised up, though he'd tried to clean it up and hide it. He'd also seen shock written plainly on Michael's face upon seeing Gavin in his first hour. It didn't take a genius to figure out that he didn't think Gavin belonged in public school, meaning that he still only thought of Gavin as the deaf kid living across the street.

He wasn't about to let that go. He wasn't going to hit the bloody kid again—that really wasn't going to solve anything. But he wasn't going to leave him be. So, he resolved to do what he did best and make his life hell in the absolute most subtle ways possible. Things like he'd done today with the note, things that just rubbed Michael the wrong way. He wasn't going to let Michael forget about him or ignore him. Just having multiple classes with him was a good start on Project Annoy The Hell Out Of Michael Jones.

He was stuck answering the unexpected flood of emails that came from people wanting to use the slow motion video when Dan tapped him twice on the shoulder, making Gavin jump and turn to look at him. He'd shown Dan the view count, now up to over two million due to being featured, just a few hours earlier and he looked as if he was still in shock about it.

"B, Burnie's here," Dan told him, glancing at what Gavin was doing and then looking back at him as he signed. That was all it took for Gavin to stop what he was doing completely and freeze, his fingers still on the keyboard.

"Burnie?" Gavin repeated, the sign familiar on his fingers, the name a derivative of the word 'uncle'. The thing about sign language was because of its weirdness and slight occasional inconvenience, people who spent a lot of time around each other tended to make up signs for words and names, usually shorthand versions of them. The household had a lot of so-called 'home-made' signs, most of which were made up or British slang, short hand for certain things and terms, and names. Names especially were made up, since it was a bother to sign out every letter every time. Gavin and Dan called each other 'B', a nickname used only by the two of them from even before Gavin went deaf. Geoff and Griffon were derivatives of 'father' and 'mother' respectively. Michael was a sign based on the word asshole. Most of them were close to words Gavin found fitting to describe them, Burnie included.

Dan nodded and instantly, Gavin was up out of his chair and out of the room, taking the steps two at a time. Burnie was the reason they'd moved down here, the reason Geoff had a job, and also the reason Gavin had an expensive slow motion camera in the first place. He was something more than a family friend, a lot closer to everyone than just that, as well as someone Gavin admired almost as much as he admired Geoff. One of the things he'd been looking forward to when moving down here was seeing Burnie more often.

Geoff and Burnie were two of the five founders of the company RoosterTeeth, which produced the quickly growing web-series Red Vs Blue. Burnie was the CEO, the official leader of the company, though he and the rest of the founders were pretty equal in their work. As a result, the five of them—Geoff Ramsey, Burnie Burns, Gus Sorola, Matt Hullum, and Joel Heyman—were rather close. They'd recently been gaining a lot of attention and popularity and Geoff had clued Gavin in on plans to do more things in the company.

After nearly falling down the last couple steps, Gavin launched himself at Burnie in their typical greeting in which Burnie would catch him and wrap him into a hug. He'd known Burnie for as long as he'd known Geoff and he was much like an uncle to him, except he saw him much more frequently. He'd even gone out of his way to learn sign language so that he would be able to understand him without any translation.

As usual, Burnie caught him and hugged him, even though he'd just seen him a few days before. Satisfied, Gavin uncurled himself from him and backed up, grinning wide to where Geoff was standing, probably having been talking with Burnie before Gavin came down. For a moment, Gavin let himself take in his surroundings and he was initially overwhelmed, an odd feeling for him. It still happened sometimes, even after all these years, everything around him. Everyone—Geoff, Burnie, Gavin himself—was all smiles and it was all genuine, all real. The house was well lit and clean, though still clearly lived-in. It had a warm feeling to it, with the scent of dinner wafting in from the kitchen, the bright lights, the familiarity and friendliness of it all. It still blew him away sometimes, remembering where he'd come from and that this was his life now.

Burnie turned to him instead of Geoff, his hands a bit clumsy as he fumbled his way through signs. He was still working at being proficient in the language, but Gavin didn't care how clumsy he was, as long as he was understandable. And Gavin understood every single word, "I saw your video, Gav. I wanted to come here to congratulate you—you did a great job with it. Pretty fucking amazing video. Almost three million views, now. I'm proud of you, man."

Three million. Almost three million people had seen it. That was twenty times the population of the region Gavin and Dan had come from. Three million. And Burnie was proud of him. Geoff was proud, too, he'd said so after he'd gotten home from school. But Geoff was his father. He was supposed to say crap like that. Burnie was different. Burnie had given him the camera, telling him he'd borrowed it from a company they'd done editing for, telling him that they'd have to return it eventually and that it wasn't a toy. And Gavin had shown him what he could do with it. He'd shown him that what he was doing was worth the trouble of getting the camera in the first place. He'd done exactly what he'd wanted to do and he'd made Burnie proud of him. God, that was a great feeling.

He found himself trying to find the right words to respond, shocked by his praise. 'Fucking amazing' he'd said. Not only had he garnered almost three million views, been featured on the front page of youtube, and been approached for a partnership, he'd made a good video. He'd done all the non-audio editing himself, all the slow motion himself, all the loose-scripting and filming himself. Dan had been there to help, but had ended up only editing audio for Gavin, since he didn't know much about video editing. He'd done most of it himself, and though he had no doubts that he could do anything anyone else could, this was definitely a giant sign to piss off to anyone who thought differently. And for once, Gavin let himself be proud of his work.

They caught up, Dan sitting beside Gavin and translating Burnie's talks to Geoff. Burnie wasn't quite proficient to the point that he could translate while talking, but that was why he had Dan, anyways. They talked about doing live-action stuff, acting, something they called shorts, which (from the looks of it) would be something like five minute long comedy sketches. He enjoyed 'listening in', liking that both Burnie and Geoff didn't treat him like a child and allowed him to know what they planned for the company. After the day back in public school, it was nice to be around people who didn't think of him as his disability.

They tossed ideas back and forth, Dan translating everything Burnie said to Gavin, with Geoff signing everything he said, as he usually did with Gavin in the house. Griffon, who was also a minor part of the company, joined them after a while, sitting beside Gavin. They were getting into discussing the live-action ideas when Burnie suddenly suggested something that caught him off guard.

"Gav, I was thinking maybe you could help us with some of the live action stuff. You know, as an actor or something. You, too, Dan."

He had to glance at Burnie in shock to make sure he'd said that and that he hadn't read Dan's hand signals wrong. A nod confirmed that, yes, he'd actually said that. He turned his eyes on Geoff and then Griffon, looking for reassurance that Burnie was just bouncing ideas that wouldn't happen, but he was met with stares that told him they had known about and approved it before Burnie had even brought it up. He was left speechless, wordless, unable to even fathom it. He was GavinoFree, the head site moderator and Geoff's son, but he hadn't expected to become part of the company any time soon. It was his dream, of course—who wouldn't dream of working to produce stuff on the internet for laughs?—but he hadn't wanted to do anything about it until he was at least out of high school, figuring it was a bit selfish to ask to work with people he considered family (as well as Geoff—his father).

Before he could respond, Burnie went on and Dan translated for him, his shaking hands telling Gavin that he was shocked by the question, as well, "You two don't have to decide now. Take some time to think about it."

And that was the last of that conversation for the night. Burnie stayed for dinner and then left. Gavin played a few games of Halo with Geoff and helped Griffon put finish on a sculpture. It wasn't until later, when he stumbled into Dan's bed, just like every other night, that he actually allowed himself to think about it again. It was there, curled against him, able to feel his snores in his chest, that Gavin let his lips curl into a genuinely happy smile. He'd been offered a place at the company and though it had shocked and confused him, he couldn't be happier.

\---

On Tuesday, Gavin found Michael's locker number and somehow, his combination. Dan dragged him into the bathroom to wash it off of where he'd written it on his arm.

On Wednesday, Gavin deliberately sat in Michael's seat during first period. Dan had to pick him up with a fuming and yelling Michael standing nearby.

On Thursday, Gavin wrote on Michael's desk with a permanent marker before class, the message reading _Michael is a mingy wanker_. Michael was furious upon seeing it and promptly stormed out of the classroom.

On Friday, it became apparent that Gavin was fucking with Michael in the smallest, most subtle ways for the sole reason of getting a reaction from him. It was Friday that Dan found out that Gavin had procured Michael's phone number from someone and was copy and pasting entire movie scripts and sending it to him—which would take over a thousand texts to receive at times. On Friday, Dan realized he had to do something about it, which was how he found himself leaning on Michael's locker, waiting for the furious little menace himself, Gavin already on his way home with Geoff. He'd asked him to pick him up, claiming to have after-school activities to do, which wasn't really a lie. It left Dan able to do what he wanted and with a car to help him out.

A glance at his watch told him it was just ten minutes after school ended, meaning that Michael was due to show up at any time. A fear had rooted itself in him that Michael had already gone home, but still, he waited, and it only took a few more minutes for short and angry curly-haired Michael to come rounding around the corner. Almost immediately, they met eyes, and Michael simply turned away and started walking in the other direction without so much as a hesitation. For a moment, Dan just watched in shock. He didn't know what he'd been expecting, but it certainly hadn't been for Michael to be that blunt about it.

Stooping to pick up his bag, he jogged after him, quickly catching up to him. He walked ahead of him, turning around suddenly and with just a small shove, pushing him against the white brick wall, essentially cornering him. To keep him there and make sure he wouldn't get away, he moved in closer to Michael, leaning down to look him in the eyes, a hand on the wall above his head. A simple glance behind him told him there was no one around, so no one would see or overhear. Below him, Michael muttered a few curses, his brown eyes narrowed up at Dan, betraying both fear and flaring anger, even though Dan had done nothing violent to him.

He suspected he did look menacing, especially since he was quite a bit taller than Michael. Michael was around Gavin's height, just a bit shorter, and Dan was noticeably taller than Gavin. When he had him cornered like this, Michael honestly looked small and stalky, as if he was trying to sink into the wall to get away. That, too, was surprising, since Dan had heard talk of Michael's frequent and multiple fights with other kids, stories that had been circulated after Michael had showed up to school the first day with a bandaged and bruised up face. He'd expected a fight from him, punching, kicking, screaming—the likes. Instead he'd just gotten a slouching cursing kid who wasn't even trying to duck away from him. Though it wasn't what Dan was expecting, it made this a bit easier.

"You look scared," Dan told him, raising an eyebrow questionably. Michael was all but cowering against the wall, though he still met Dan's gaze almost defiantly. He was clearly afraid that he was going to get beat up again, which just confused him even more. Why not fight him back? This was the same violent kid he'd heard rumors about, wasn't it? Maybe it was because Dan was so much bigger, both in height and build, than him. Regardless, he was beginning to realize that this Michael kid was unpredictable and it was better to just not have any expectations of his behavior at all. "Relax. I'm not going to hurt you."

"Oh, fuck off!" Michael spat back at him, though Dan noticed he stood up a little straighter. "What do you want?"

There was something about him that made Dan want to leave him right here and go home. He knew why Gavin hated him. He understood that and shared those feelings, though not to the same extent. But there was something different, something independent of Gavin's negative feelings towards Michael that made Dan dislike him. It had to do with his entire demeanor, the way Michael constantly carried himself, almost like he was better than the other students at school. With his sarcastic remarks and forever lit fuse, he gave of a sort of pompous, irritated air that Dan just couldn't stand. He wasn't much of a fan of the way Michael yelled and cursed every two words, either.

He leaned a little further in, dismissing his own feelings and trying to keep a more open mind about him. Michael sunk back, his eyes widening slightly, his previous confidence clearly gone. Dan let it linger for a moment, knowing he should feel bad about being so amused over scaring the piss out of Michael, watching as he slouched again, his mouth falling open in wordless fear. It was obvious now that he intimidated Michael and though it was entertaining, it wasn't helping the situation any.

So he stood straight up again, uncornering Michael, laughing as he picked up his bag again. He was free to go now if he wanted to, with enough space between them for him to run and nothing keeping him there. He didn't, though, staying put against the wall, confusion and the familiar rage growing on his face.

"What the—" He started dumbfounded, only to have Dan cut him off with another laugh.

"Let's go get coffee."

That had been the plan all along. Not to beat up Michael or to yell at him or strike fear in him, but to talk to him one-on-one without Gavin or anyone else present. He figured that would take Michael out of his comfort zone, out of a place where he was allowed to yell and rage and stomp around all he wanted, which would force him to talk like a normal person to Dan. He'd spent enough time with Gavin to know a few things about how people worked, something that Gavin knew a lot about. He could at least tell that taking Michael away from that comfort zone would let him be able to talk sense into him.

Michael stuttered, scowling, clearly in shock from going suddenly from terrified and trapped to confused and free to do whatever, "I— _What_?!"

Dan repeated it for him, slower, "Coffee. We can talk." He held up his car keys in a show of peace, proof that he wasn't about to beat the hell out of him. At least he'd intimidated Michael into talking at a normal volume.

"And why—why would I want to talk to you?" He noticed Michael clutching the straps of his bag until his knuckles turned white, a sign of frustration. He was hesitant, but that was to be expected. He would expect anyone to be hesitant after what had happened the day before. He still stayed put in his place and that, despite his unwillingness was a good sign, at least.

His answer was planned, as he'd gone through this conversation at least five times in his head throughout the day, "Because I can explain things. And there's some things I'd like to explain to you."

Dan sometimes viewed himself as an extension of Gavin. It wasn't really something he had a problem with. Like many other things, it just was. He also didn't see it as a bad thing. He was his own person, obviously, with his own personality and his own thoughts and feelings. A lot of those thoughts and feelings just happened to be extensions of Gavin's own. He'd been around Gavin for close to a decade. Out of anyone, he was the one who knew him best. As a result of Gavin's deafness, they had also developed a lot of nonverbal-nonsigned communication, mixtures of shared looks and touches. The final product was an unsaid understanding between them that Dan had never experienced with anyone else.

Because of that, because of that understanding, he and Gavin were alike in a lot of ways and they thought alike, too. He had to be able to think like him. He was Gavin's voice, the person Gavin relied on to speak for him, to get his point across in the exact way he wanted. It was a big responsibility and Gavin entrusted it to him.

He was undeniably his own person, though, despite being the person who spoke for Gavin when he couldn't. At times, his own personality and independent thoughts didn't really show until he was without Gavin. Honestly, it was odd being without him. Dan's life revolved around him for the most part, something he both accepted and was alright with. He spent every day with him, around him nearly all the time with the rare exceptions of when he went back to the UK to visit his own family. Not having him by his side, not having the person he spent all his time with, the person he was the closest to—was weird, to say the least, and Dan often found himself stumbling through conversation without him.

This was no exception to that, really. Michael was quiet the entire short ride to the cafe down the street from the school, which Dan actually appreciated. It gave him time to figure out his next step and try to plan out what to say. He said nothing to Michael and Michael said nothing to him, not until they sat down in a booth, Michael sitting across from him, staring down at the table. Dan finally broke the silence between them, knowing somebody had to do it and that somebody should probably be him, since he was the one who'd proposed this meeting anyways.

"So." It wasn't even a question or a statement, just a conversation starter. They were sat in the back against the back windows, where no one would really see them and would pay them even less mind.

Michael quickly glanced up at him and then went back to focusing on stirring whatever he'd gotten, "So."

It was like all his planning and everything he'd thought of to say had suddenly escaped him. He was left speechless, unable to think of anything to say. He struggled, trying to come up with something, anything, his mind blank whenever he tried to pull something from it. It was embarrassing and awkward and Dan found himself wishing that Gavin was here. At least then he'd have someone he was familiar with. Gavin was the type of person who could keep a conversation going as long as he wanted it to. Dan was not.

"What's wrong with your brother?"

Dan nearly jumped, taken off-guard by Michael speaking up before he did. He looked him over for a long moment, seeing an expression he'd never seen before on Michael. He was curious, adverting his eyes every few seconds, maybe even shy. The bright light from outside shone on his face, giving light to all the freckles and his full cheeks. Like this—Dan's previous negative disposition towards him was starting to disappear. Like this, calm and contained, speaking in a completely normal (even quiet) volume, he was actually—bearable. His question wasn't condescending or angry but genuinely curious, like it was something he'd been wondering, even if the answer to the question was really obvious.

"First off—" It gave him something to go off of. "He's not my brother." That seemed to take Michael by surprise, judging from the way his eyes widened a bit behind his glasses and he raised his head more. It was almost comical to think that he'd believed Gavin and Dan were brothers. They looked absolutely nothing alike. "We live together, yeah, but Gavin was adopted and I'm his interpreter. I have a family back in the UK."

"How does that work?" Michael actually seemed interesting. Dan had to admit, it was a little odd being able to talk to him like this, without Michael screaming and swearing every other word. He supposed the setting had something to do with it—They were essentially alone in their back corner of the cafe, the sun streaming in through the windows, the heat battled by air conditioning that was better than half the city had. The noises around them provided a calming buzz of private talking and quiet music from the speakers above them. Michael was sat slouched over slightly, his hands around his untouched cup of coffee and a thin jacket pulled onto his shoulders to combat the cold of the air conditioning. It was nice, and Michael was actually...enjoyable like this. Dan could actually look him in the eyes and not have to flinch away at the expected yelling or the sight of his black eye and bandaged cheek.

He basked in the moment, the warmness of it washing over him in waves, and then sighed, "What part? Me not being adopted or what?"

"All of it," Michael answered immediately. A pause and soon after, "I mean. Sorry. That was sort of shitty. That sort of stuff is private. Sorry." He dropped eye contact again, looking down at the table.

"No, no," God, this kid was weird. Hearing him apologize felt foreign to Dan's ears. He hadn't offended Dan in the slightest, and yet, he'd frantically apologized to him. It was definitely weird. "Alright. Uh, I'd have start from the...the very beginning. That alright?"

"Yeah. That'd be great."

Michael was honestly distracting like this. Calm, showing real interest, and that bloody better-that-you attitude completely gone. It just seemed so out of left-field for him. He knew taking Michael out of his comfort zone would get him to calm down a little, but he hadn't anticipated anything like this. He tried to find the right place to start, watching as Michael took a drink of whatever he'd gotten at the front counter, not even trying to hide the fact that he was just staring wide-eyed at him. With his freckled face, full cheeks, and curly hair, he looked a lot more innocent than Dan had ever seen him before.

"Okay—" He started out, realizing he had to talk and just winging it. "Alright, Gav—Gavin and I used to live in the same town. In Oxfordshire." He stopped for a second to gather himself. It was obvious he didn't really know how to start this out. Michael had his full attention turned to him, though, so he had to keep talking. "That's in England." He was clearly a smooth talker. "And we went to school together. I was the only one who played games in our class, so he would come over to my house and play Halo with me and we eventually just sort of...became friends? I guess this is when we were around nine or ten."

"You guys have known each other a long time," Michael commented.

Nine years. "Yeah. So we... when we were about twelve, something bad happened. I can't really—I don't think he'd want you knowing what exactly it was—nothing against you or anything—but long story short, he had this really bloody and bad concussion and—you're smart, right? I can talk medical to you, yeah?" Michael leaned forward, nodding his agreement. "His brain swelled. Real bad. All kinds of shit was happening and there wasn't anyone who would visit him but me, so I pretty much just... sat there and watched. He had seizures and couldn't see half the time. It was real scary, you know?"

Michael didn't say anything, back to staring at his cup, his mouth half open in what Dan suspected would soon be an apology. He glanced down at himself, seeing that his hands were trembling slightly. Distantly, he felt his phone buzz and forced himself to take it out and look at the text, his hands shaking the entire time. Gavin. _You gonna be home soon?_

It had been scary. The scariest thing Dan had ever gone through.

"I'm— Look man, I'm sorry. You don't have to—"

Dan interrupted him, "Nah. It's alright. Hang on." His fingers stopped shaking as he typed out a text in reply to Gavin. _Yeah. See you in a bit, b. I'll bring you something back from that little café downtown._

"Was that him?" Michael asked as soon as Dan put his phone away. "Gavin, I mean."

"Yeah. He can be a persistent little shit, can't he?" He laughed and Michael cracked a smile because he probably knew that tenfold by now. "Where was I?"

"Seizures and a concussion."

This conversation—it was actually comfortable. The awkwardness from before was gone completely, and Michael was actually being friendly towards him, even smiling when Dan had cracked a dumb joke. Maybe Michael wasn't actually a pompous angry dolt. Maybe he was actually an enjoyable person who was just easy to set off. He seemed like he was actually a nice person when he wasn't screaming at the top of his lungs, if his concern at seeing Dan shake when telling him about the aftermath of what had happened had anything to say about it.

"Yeah, thanks," He was alright now. Recalling it just wasn't— It wasn't really something Dan liked to remember. It still struck him that Gavin had been completely and utterly alone through it all, with only Dan at his side. No family or family friends. Just Dan. To this day, that still got him. "I don't actually remember when he went deaf. I think it was pretty much right after he got back to being fully conscious. His brain was bleeding and pretty much everything that could go wrong was going wrong, so his doctors had bigger priorities than trying to fix his ears. The damage was already done, anyways. I don't think he even knew I was there half the time he was conscious, even after they were able to fix his vision. But yeah. That's how he went deaf."

Silence.

It expanded between them, giving Dan a chance to calm down and Michael a chance to gather himself.

"So he wasn't always deaf. He could hear at one point."

"Yeah," Dan confirmed. Michael was clearly still trying to grasp it. "So after he was better, he went to this rehabilitation place to learn sign language and how to actually... live while being deaf. It was also because there wasn't anyone who could take him. People came and looked at him, but no one wanted to adopt a deaf kid, so they all just moved on. Except... there was this one couple. The first thing the guy did was ask Gavin if he wanted to play a game of Halo, and Gavin pretty much latched onto them immediately.

"They already knew sign language and they adopted him pretty soon. At that point, I was the only person who'd stuck around for Gavin and my parents... well, they're real laid back and they don't really care as long as I don't get into trouble, so Gav and I were pretty close. His new parents asked me if I wanted to be his interpreter, since they thought Gavin would be more comfortable with someone he knew. My parents agreed and here I am."

His part of the story wasn't nearly as interesting, but it'd do. He breathed a sigh of relief at finally being done with it and smiled at Michael's look of astonishment.

"That's— wow. You two must be really close," Another pause. "So, uh. Could you clue me in on why he's tormenting me?"

That was what he'd come here to talk about in the first place. Dan had nearly forgotten.

"Yeah," He agreed. "Sorry, Michael, but Gav hates you a lot." He had a way with words. Clearly.

"Figured."

He had to be blunt about it if he wanted to get his point across. He hoped that Michael would at least have a little bit better of an understanding after Dan telling him all that. From the looks of it, he did, but he'd learned from this that he probably shouldn't expect anything out of Michael Jones.

"Listen," What he'd planned out in the car was finally coming back to him, giving him the words to make Michael understand. "Gav hates you because you think of him as the deaf kid." Michael opened his mouth to protest, but Dan went on before he could. "No, don't deny it. Everyone does. But you've treated him differently because of it. You pity him. You think of him as different than everyone else, and you feel sorry for him because you think he can't do what everyone else can. No, don't say anything. Everyone does the same thing. But listen, you need to realize that just because he's deaf, there's nothing he can't do that you can except, obviously, hear."

"But why does that make him hate me?" There was just a hint of desperation in Michael's voice, betraying that he was upset that Gavin despised him.

"Let me put this into perspective for you," He'd run out of planned things to say, winging it again. He was just shooting in the dark in hopes of hitting anything. "You get angry a lot. You're loud and you yell a lot. What would you do if that was the only thing anyone ever saw? What would you do if as soon as people met you, they knew you were angry and they changed how they acted around you? They act awkwardly and speak really slowly to you. They tell you you should go to a special school because of it. That's pretty much what Gavin goes through every day. That's why he hates you. Because you constantly remind him that he's deaf by treating him differently."

And then—

There it was.

A look of realization dawned on Michael's face, as clear as day, like he knew exactly what Dan was talking about. He found himself holding his breath as Michael fixed him with a long, shocked stare of complete and utter clarity and it was then, in that moment, that he knew he'd broken through to Michael Jones.

"Yeah. I understand. I get it."

And maybe, just maybe, Dan had actually fixed something right for once.


	4. Fall III

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The worst kind of tea is reality: featuring one oblivious angry kid, one deaf troublemaker, and one British attempted peacemaker.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [Cross-posted here!](http://gavirn.tumblr.com/post/65402904825/theory-of-sound-fall-iii)

Sign language was weird.

Weird, confusing, and really, really hard, that was. Advanced sign language his ass. More like the school was trying to kill him off by throwing him into this class. Five days. Five days into this fucking class and Michael was already in over his head and six feet down. Come Monday there was a test, but that was the least of his concerns. Tuesday was the start of the class being fully immersive. If he wanted to understand anything, he'd have to shove his nose to the goddamn grindstone this weekend. It sucked, and Michael had spent most of his Saturday cussing out the guidance counselor under his breath as he poured over books and videos and notes.

Around eight, his phone buzzed, making Michael's entire body freeze with the fear of getting a thousand more texts from an 'unknown number' (Gavin), even though he'd blocked said unknown number (Gavin), though they still found a way to get through (still Gavin). He held his breath, waiting, afraid he'd have to rip the battery out again or contact the phone company, but nothing came. Finally letting out that breath and tearing himself away from his book, he picked up his phone to check it. Probably Ray asking him if he wanted to hang out. He could honestly use a break.

> Unknown number 8:39 PM: dan told you

Three words. Just three fucking words. No shitty movie scripts sent to him, no condescending remarks, no subtle fucking with him—something real, real conversation. Michael held the phone in his hands and it felt surreal. It occurred to him for the first time that he'd never actually spoken to Gavin before. There had just been anger, punching, and then Gavin fucking with him. No actual conversation. And until yesterday, Michael had had really no reason to talk to him about anything. He did now, though, and he tried desperately to think of something, anything to say, but nothing came to mind, so he settled on something absolutely pathetic. One word in response to three.

> Michael 8:41 PM: yeah.

He didn't know what else to say.

Surprise, surprise. Michael Jones could actually be a respectable goddamn human being, as he'd so graciously shown to Dan the day before. Given the right circumstances and right people around him, he was calm, because there was no reason to be angry. He wasn't someone who just constantly walked around in a rage. School irritated him in general, so he was obviously going to be pissy there, but outside of school, he was generally pretty calm unless something set him off. The downside was that Ray was really the only person to see him out of school and thus, pretty much the only person to not see him constantly pissy. Dan had been the second person to experience such a phenomenon and the realization that wow, Michael could actually be a calm, normal person who could carry on a conversation had obviously been groundbreaking to him.

His phone buzzed a few moments later. Michael hadn't put it down since he'd read the first text, his book ignored.

> Unknown number 8:42 PM: how much did he tell you

Ever since yesterday, Michael had found it increasingly difficult to focus on studying. He kept going back to that conversation over and over, his thoughts cycling back to it constantly and with no matter what he talked about. He couldn't seem to stop thinking about that. In the past hour he'd found himself staring down at his text without reading or understanding it, his mind back in that cafe, sitting across from Dan and listening to him talk. He couldn't focus on anything else.

That afternoon—that had been really enjoyable. Surprisingly so, too. He'd actually liked being there. There'd been no fighting or arguing or Michael fucking everything up, as he constantly did. He'd expected all that and more. After all, the guy sitting across from him had been part two of the British Dynamic Duo, with part one being the kid who'd set him on fire, beaten him up, and fucked with him in every way possible. The last thing he'd expected had been real conversation. That was what he'd gotten, though. Granted, Dan had scared him shitless by cornering him after school with no one around, but he hadn't hurt him or anything of the sort. They'd talked. Michael had listened. Things were different now.

Again, he tried to think of a reply, not knowing what Gavin wanted to hear from him. He still didn't like the kid, but that underlying, burning hatred had disappeared as soon as Dan drove him home. He understood now. It didn't excuse all of Gavin's shitty pranks, but at least he understood why he hated Michael so much. Gavin had told him before, right before he punched Michael, but Michael hadn't listened. It'd taken Dan's explanation and metaphor for Michael to actually understand that Gavin was not defined by the word deaf.

> Michael 8:45 PM: dont worry. it wasnt much.
> 
> Unknown number 8:45 PM: how much
> 
> Michael 8:47 PM: just about how you went deaf. he didnt tell me about anything before your head injury
> 
> Unknown number 8:47 PM: but you know there was something before that i wouldnt want you knowing otherwise you wouldnt have said that

He had a point. Michael could admit that much. Dan had mentioned something that Gavin wouldn't want Michael knowing, which straight-away gave him a few guesses, along with later things that gave him clues. He wasn't one to make judgments or assumptions usually, so he wasn't going to jump to conclusions, even if it was right in front of him. Honestly, he didn't really care, since that was something even more personal than the rest of the personal stuff Dan had already shared with him, stuff that was probably still none of his goddamned business.

> Michael 8:50 PM: it's alright. he didnt tell me about any of that. i know whatever it is is personal.
> 
> Unknown number 8:50 PM: so was the rest of the bloody crap he told you
> 
> Michael 8:51 PM: i realize that. look, im sorry. about everything. is that enough?

He waited. And waited. Apologizing was a funny thing for him—he tended to do it a lot when he was overstepping his boundaries or alone with someone else, but apologizing after a fight was something he rarely, if ever, did. That was due to the fact that he hardly ever felt genuinely bad after a fight or argument with someone else. He did in this case, though. He'd been his usual class A asshole self when Dan and Gavin had accidentally hit a flaming tennis ball into his yard and he'd apologized after marching over to Gavin's house, but it was neither a real apology nor the right one. Though Gavin had been a piece of shit to him, Michael did need to apologize for being an asshole in the first place.

So, he found himself doing just that—-apologizing to him. When Dan had used the metaphor of Michael being defined by his anger to compare to Gavin being defined by his deafness, he'd probably thought he was throwing Michael into a hypothetical situation. He hadn't realized that it wasn't hypothetical—it was real. That happened to him every day in school, with everyone around him. He was positive it was a hundred times worse for Gavin with an actual disability but he could understand at least a little, and it made him feel really, really shitty for thinking of him like that.

He waited, glancing over his textbook, trying to remember what he'd read last. He was trying to get basic conversational words down for now at least. If he couldn't sign them himself, at least he would be able to understand him. Articles, nouns, basic verbs—it all swirled around him, making his head feel stuck in a goddamn cloud. His mind cycled back as he stared at the text, not seeing the words in front of him. Concussion. Deaf. Seizures. Rehabilitation. Adoption. He remembered everything Dan had told him, and he honestly couldn't imagine ever being in Dan's place, having to watch his best friend go through that. It was hard to think of all that and not feel bad for Dan, who'd been the only one at his side and Gavin, who'd had to go through it all in the first place.

The buzzing of his phone made him jump.

> Unknown number 9:02 PM: fine alright

That was more than enough for him, even if Gavin still seemed frustrated.

> Michael 9:03 PM: whats your last name?
> 
> Unknown number 9:03 PM: free why?

That was a weird last name, but whatever.

> Michael 9:04 PM: just wondering

A lie. It took less than a minute to add Gavin to his contacts.

> Gavin Free 9:05 PM: weird

Verbs, nouns, adjectives, subjects, letters—he was taking them in, but they weren't registering. He'd read the textbook, work on memorizing them for an hour, and then forget them five minutes later. He'd always been a good tester, someone who didn't usually have to study books or do a lot of homework. He got by through testing. This wasn't like his other classes, though. It was harder and for the first time in his life, Michael actually had to study, the issue being that he'd never had to learn how. He was left stuck, struggling to remember just ten signs, dreading Monday's approach. His door was locked, his computer and television shut off, the only light in his room coming from the light on his desk as he went over the same signs again and again and again.

It was hell, and he needed a break, but he knew he couldn't take one. He couldn't spare any time away from studying. He was already going to suffer enough next week and he wanted to try to learn as much as he possibly could before then. His eyes grew tired, drooping, and above all, it was really fucking boring and Michael had the lingering notion that he was probably studying wrong, anyways. There wasn't any time to change that, unfortunately.

When the doorbell rang at around eleven, Michael was both relieved and frustrated by it. Because there was no one else home, it was Michael's job to answer it and he immediately got up, leaving his room for the first time in what felt like days, and trudged downstairs, opening the door to find a blonde woman with tattoos and a septum ring standing on his porch. An odd sight to see, definitely, but Michael recognized her immediately.

"Hi. Michael, right?" She was the first to speak, her voice exactly how he expected to be by looking at her. This was Gavin's mother. Or rather—adoptive mother. Michael could feel his heart racing and he went over everything in his head, double checking to see if he'd done anything to Gavin to piss her off. He still didn't like the kid, sure—after all, he was still an asshole who got enjoyment out of screwing with Michael—but he'd apologized and hadn't done anything more to him.

"Yeah," His voice came out a bit shaky, nervous. He swallowed hard. "You are?"

She smiled and Michael felt his nerves ease. She had a nice smile, something he hadn't expected. It was a type of motherly smile, the exact opposite of his own currently absent motherly unit. "Griffon. Gav's been a bit upset today and Geoff mentioned you might know something about why?"

Something was wrong. There was something Michael wasn't getting, and it had nothing to do with her words or why Gavin was apparently being pissy. Something else edged at him and Michael felt it there, lying just at his fingertips, but he couldn't reach it. He couldn't place what it was or what it meant or why now and it was a strange feeling that made him shift uncomfortably.

"Geo—Who?"

"My husband. Michael, you're not in trouble. Relax."

But he couldn't. He took a shaking breath, glancing around before speaking again, putting on a guise of calmness, "Sorry, Griffon. I don't know Gavin too well and I kinda try to stay out of his way after what happened. I wish I could help."

He'd only met the guy once before, when he'd helped sort things out with the fire and Michael's beaten up face. He'd mostly dealt with Michael's mother, since Michael had been told to take it easy while at the hospital, so he hadn't spoken to him much. It hadn't been nearly enough interaction to learn his name.

He really should've realized it earlier, when Gavin had told him his full name.

Griffon thanked him, though Michael wasn't paying much attention. He locked the door, shut off the lights, and climbed the stairs again, half in shock.

This couldn't be happening. This literally could not fucking be happening. It had to be a coincidence. It just had to be. The probability was too astronomically huge for this to actually be happening. He should've realized it sooner—the signs had all been there. He just hadn't cared to see them, like usual, and now he was paying for that. He felt like he was in a goddamn trance, his fingers automatically powering up his desktop and going to the forum site. It was just— No. This couldn't be happening to him.

He'd always kept his online life and offline life separate. Online, he could be himself. He had a lot of friends. No one knew him as the shouty kid who they had to be careful not to set off. He had people to talk to, to joke around with, people who shared common interests with him that did not include the usual interests of drugs and drinking like he saw constantly at school. He was a different person online. Himself. The only thing that branched his online and offline lives together was Ray, who was the only person he actually knew offline on the forums.

He didn't want this to be happening. He wanted that separation. He'd let Ray into his life mostly because he'd forced his way in. That separation was a sort of insurance for him. He had something to fall back on when his school life broke him and he got tired of everyone else. Offline, he had his guard up all the time, making sure no one was let in or knew too much about him so that he wouldn't get close to any of them and they wouldn't attach to him. Online, he was friendly, sociable, and most of all, comfortable. He didn't want those two parts of him to cross. He didn't want to believe it.

The evidence was staring at him in the form of a journal post right there on the front page. The top post, too. Of course. The poster was a site admin and the main one, at that. Michael held his breath, reading it over at least five times, trying to comprehend what it said, what it meant.

> 9/19/13 written by **GavinoFree** (moderator):
> 
> _By the way, Dan ( DaninoGee) and I made a video the other day. We got a few views on it. Thought I'd share it here._
> 
> **Shared** : Youtube link—Slow Mo Guys Fire Tennis

Michael wanted to scream. He wanted to rip his goddamn hair out and just scream at the top of his lungs because this was it. This was an invasion of his entire life. He was in most his classes, he had his number, he saw him and Dan almost every day going to school or outside, he was forced into a fucking sign language class, and now—now he learned that the Gavin that lived across the street, the same Gavin who'd tormented him every day for the past week, was fucking GavinoFree on the RoosterTeeth site. Not only that, but Griffon's husband, Geoff, was one of the lead voice actors for Red Vs. Blue. God. Fucking. Dammit. It was every aspect of his life now, every single aspect involved the fucking British idiot(s) across the street. He couldn't escape it. He always used the forums and online friends to get away from his offline life, but now he couldn't even do that, because the fucking people who ran the site he'd found solace in lived across the street.

He honestly should've seen it before. He knew that. He realized that now. He'd been blind to the signs all around him, choosing to ignore everything that obviously pointed to this until it was so far in front of him that it was practically sitting on his lap. He was angry, unable to think through his rage, hands curled into fists, and he wasn't even sure why or who at. Himself, for one, for not seeing it. And Gavin. For moving into the house across the street and fucking Michael's life over so hard that he honestly felt like screaming in utter frustration at the loss of his safeplace.

He had to calm down. He recalled again what he and Dan had talked about on Friday and though it didn't pertain to the situation much, it got Michael to finally fucking breathe. He breathed hard, seething in gradually disappearing rage and closed his eyes, thinking back to that conversation as he sat on the floor against his door (after slamming said door, of course). He shouldn't get angry. He had to calm down. He realized Gavin wasn't at fault, but that didn't lessen his anger at him in the least bit. It didn't change the fact that it was because of him that Michael had lost his safeplace.

So he sat there, curled into himself against the door, head in his hands, fighting to control himself and keep himself from marching across the street to scream at someone who couldn't even hear him. He told himself again and again that it was fine, that it was alright, that this really changed nothing, but he couldn't convince himself. It wasn't fine. It wasn't alright. And it definitely changed everything.

\--

It was the third game in a row he hadn't made any kills on.

The names of his fellow players blinked, lighting up as a notification that they were speaking, but all of their complaints and yells fell on deaf ears. It made Gavin all the more frustrated, not being able to tell what they were saying, a constant reminder that Dan, who usually translated everything heard over the speakers, wasn't here to help him. His game was obviously suffering and he was responsible for making his team lose on multiple occasions, which did nothing to distract him from everything else.

The scoreboard came up, the round ended, and in a fit of anger and emotion, Gavin hit the switch on the game system, tossed his controller onto the ground beside it, and left the room completely. Having nowhere else to go, since he had no idea where Dan was, he was forced to choose between locking himself in the bathroom and going out on the balcony. He wound up taking the more enjoyable choice, fitting easily through the window and pushing himself out onto the platform just outside.

It was one of those bullshit fake balconies, one that looked like one, positioned directly above the awning of the front door, but had no real entrance to it. That didn't stop Gavin from crawling through the window, though. It was sturdy, level with the floor of the second story. Gavin sat himself down, dangling his legs through the gaps of guard-rail bars, his forehead pressed against the cement of them, staring out at the street. Michael's house could be seen from here, dark except for the window at the second-floor right. Gavin remembered immediately that was Michael's room, the one he'd broken into by climbing the tree and going through the window.

He wondered what Michael was doing right now. It'd been just earlier today that Dan had mentioned talking to Michael after school the day before and it'd all spiraled downhill from there, halting at a screeching stop with Gavin out here alone on the balcony. Dan had told Michael. He'd told him everything, save for a few gruesome details. He'd just spilled his story to someone he knew Gavin absolutely hated. It wasn't his story to tell. He never should've told Michael anything at all. If Gavin had wanted Michael to know how he went deaf and what had happened, he would've told him himself.

In truth, there were only a few people who knew the full story. By his calculations, exactly three. Geoff, Griffon, and Dan. There were a few doctors here and there who might've gotten everything all figured out, but those were the only three who for sure knew the whole thing. People knew bits and pieces—some knew about his diagnosis, some knew about his parents, some knew about his time in the hospital—though the full story was something Gavin purposefully kept from people. It wasn't a pretty story, and it was definitely something he liked to go back to.

Gavin separated his life into three different sections—before, during, and after. He didn't consider going deaf as the 'during' part; it just so happened that that had happened at the same time. His time at the hospital and rehabilitation center was the definer for that period, ending with being adopted by Geoff and Griffon and beginning with the day he'd been taken to the ICU. He was living in the after part and he'd delt with the aftermath of what had happened years ago. If people knew about what happened before, they'd pity him. It was something he knew for a fact, after being able to recall clearly the looks in the eyes of people who talked to him while he was working on learning sign language. Ignorance was bliss, after all, and if people didn't know what had happened, they would just think he'd been deaf from birth.

But Dan had told Michael. He hadn't told him the entire story, leaving out the worst parts, but he still knew something that Gavin had never wanted him to know. It was his life, his story, and he felt powerless now, without control over who knew and what they knew. Dan had no right to tell him whatsoever and he'd told him so in much more colorful words just a few hours prior.

He rest his forehead against the bars of the safety rail, staring across the street into Michael's window. What did he think now that he knew? He'd apologized to him and from the tone of his text it sounded almost— genuine? That did nothing to rest his worries, though. If there was one thing, just one thing, that Gavin hated, it would most definitely be pity. He'd made that clear the day they'd started school, the day he'd beat up Michael. He hated being pitied just because he was deaf, especially when he could obviously do everything anyone else could except hear. The people around him had learned that a long time ago, but whenever he met someone new it was always the same damn thing. This—this knowing why and how Gavin had gone deaf would just make that pity, that feeling sorry for him worse.

Michael already treated him differently. Not so much now after fucking with him so much as he did when he'd first met him, but he still did. He was back at square one now, trying to constantly make Michael stop seeing him differently from other people, except this time it was a whole new round of it. It just—just pissed him off so badly that Michael saw him differently from everyone else just because his ears didn't work right. It didn't make him different. He had to modify his life, yes, but he acted just the same as everyone else. And yet—Michael still acted differently around him, even though Gavin had done everything he could to defy whatever stereotype he had of him.

His hands dug into the sharp cement of the safety rail bars, his breathing measured as he tried to push down his own distaste for the way Michael treated him and the fact that he'd just continue to feel sorry for him now that Dan had talked to him. Why did it matter? Why, out of everyone at school, was it Michael who's behavior got him so worked up? It didn't make any sense and even Gavin couldn't find a logical answer to it. Everyone at school did the same thing. Maybe it was because Michael was the first person he'd met. Maybe it was because of how they'd met—with Dan and he setting him on fire and then Michael refusing to hit him. He couldn't tell but it did matter and the simple realization that he didn't know why Michael's pity mattered so much just sent him further into a fit of emotion.

His phone vibrated against his hip, and upon seeing that it was Dan, Gavin just tossed it down on the balcony beside him, continuing to ignore Dan. They hadn't spoken since Gavin had stormed away from him earlier and he had no intentions of making up with him any time soon. He planned to pull an all-nighter and stay up to answer emails and deal with things on the site. It was a bad idea—that much was obvious—but he knew damn well he wasn't going to sleep tonight. He didn't want to give Dan that satisfaction. Sleeping alone was out of the question, but he wasn't about to sleep with him when he was this angry with him.

God, he wanted to talk to someone about this. He'd refused too come out of his room since their fight, so he hadn't had any contact with anyone recently. Silence, though he lived in a world of it, was something Gavin absolutely couldn't stand. The lack of someone to talk to left him alone in his head for too long, forcing him to pay attention to his thoughts. It drove him mad, making him, more than anything, want to break his silence and go talk to Griffon or whoever (besides Dan) was in the house. Being alone made him feel vulnerable to anything, himself especially, and it left him feeling horrid and useless, unable to even play a game without someone there to translate whatever fellow players were saying.

It got to him, even though he knew for a fact it wasn't true. He had to put his feelings aside and look at it rationally; the reason he couldn't play was because he was too upset to really pay attention, not because he didn't have someone there to help him. He knew he could do anything anyone else could alone, but he chose not to, liking more for someone else to be at his side, instead. He wasn't useless. He wasn't dependent. It was just a personal preference, something he'd chosen by himself because being alone was neither interesting nor fun.

So finally, Gavin sighed, closing his eyes and forcing the tension to roll off of him, making himself think about other things. The fire-tennis ball video had reached five million today. Slow motion and science had been something Gavin had been passionate about even as a kid in England, so being able to make a video showcasing his interests and skills was a dream come true and made him happy, even in this situation. He was constantly getting emails and offers, even a request to use the video on television. It was shocking and relieving, knowing that his and Burnie's efforts hadn't gone to waste.

He was able to breathe again, his mind clear as hee opened his eyes again, taking in his surroundings. The sun had set behind Michael's house long ago, night settling in and stars glittering above, most not visible due to the light pollution of the city. The single streetlight on the corner flickered, providing minimal light to the neighborhood. Lights shone in the houses, with Michael's being the only one almost completely dark. It was nice, calming, a cool wind nipping at him and taking the edge off of the heat. He let himself breathe, letting himself be calm. He wasn't one to get angry often or really show a lot of negative emotion, but when he did, it was intense to the point that it blinded his judgment.

He stayed there, basking in the environment, his mind clear and, for once, empty. Time passed and he paid no mind, not even glancing at his phone to check how long he'd been sat out here. When he felt vibrations of footsteps it came as no surprise, and he immediately recognized them as Geoff's. A second later, there was a tap at his shoulder and when he turned to look at him, Geoff smiled and sat on the balcony beside him.

"Hey," Gavin greeted, leaning on his shoulder as he signed.

"Hey, Gav."

Gavin sighed, his head resting on Geoff's shoulder as he watched his hands. Geoff put an arm around his shoulders, sitting with him, the two of them looking out into the outside world together in a silent understanding. Here, leaning against him like this, Gavin could let his eyes fall half shut as he focused on Geoff's breathing and the heartbeat he could feel vibrating through his body. After hours and hours of being alone without anyone even near him, this was just what he wanted to feel secure and like himself again. Geoff was a sort of security blanket for him, someone he'd immediately latched onto upon meeting him.

It was like this, leaning against Geoff and looking up at the stars and out at the serene street, that he finally felt comfortable enough to talk about it. He sighed again, tapping him on the side to grab his attention, looking him in the eyes as his hands moved, "Dan told Michael everything after school yesterday. He knows about the hospital and everything. Except my parents. He had the decency to not tell him that."

From the look on Geoff's face, absent of even a flicker of shock in his constantly tired eyes, that didn't surprise him in the slightest, "Yeah. That's what Dan said. Griffon went over to ask Michael if anything happened, but he was quick to deny knowing why you were so upset."

Gavin nodded. That much was to be expected. Even if he didn't like Michael, Michael didn't have much of a fault in this. It'd been all Dan. Geoff didn't say anything more, waiting for Gavin to do so, and he took the moment to try to gather himself. He didn't really know what else to say. That was what had happened, nothing more nothing less. But Geoff had already known that, meaning he'd come out here not to talk about that, but to talk about why it'd made Gavin so upset. Geoff and Griffon were big on talking about feelings and emotions, and while it definitely helped him, Gavin still wasn't used to it and had a lingering suspicion that he'd never be.

"I didn't want him to know," It was as simple as that. He had never wanted Michael, or anyone at school, to know that he wasn't deaf from birth. What if Michael told everyone to get back at him? He'd apologized to him, but the fear was still rooted in him. "And I didn't want Dan to tell him. He's not supposed to tell anyone. He shouldn't tell anyone. It's not his story to tell. If I wanted Michael to know, I would've told him. But I didn't. That's why I'm upset. I guess."

It was still so odd to just put his feelings out there for other people to know. He still fumbled around his words, trying to sort thoughts and emotions into understandable sentences and words. It was hard, even after living with the Ramseys for five years and having to do this a lot. When he glanced up at Geoff again, he gave Gavin a nod of approval, giving him reassurance that he'd done well.

"He feels bad, Gav. You should let him explain, though. He didn't do it just to spill everything to Michael. Do you really think Dan would've done that to you without reason?"

He had a point. Even if it sounded almost like he was on Dan's side. "You're defending him," Gavin pointed out, frowning.

A pause. Not a hesitation, clearly, but a simple pause. "No. You're jumping to conclusions," Geoff was right, so Gavin shut up, letting him talk. "It wasn't right for Dan to tell Michael anything. That wouldn't be right under any circumstance. Just listen to me, Gavin. He did it because he thought it was right and necessary for you and Michael to stop hating each other so much."

Unfortunately, that made sense. Dan was... a peacekeeper, to say the least. He was the voice of reason that stopped Gavin from doing stupid shit, someone who (while Gavin saw only what he considered logical) saw all sides of the issue and took that into consideration. Obviously, he misjudged at times, but it was beginning to dawn on him that Dan had done this not to just tell Michael everything, but to actually help. He hadn't known it would make things worse. Dan lacked foresight, but he really had tried to do this for Gavin. Maybe he would've explained that if he'd actually let Dan talk to him instead of just shutting him out like that.

Slowly, he nodded, "Yeah. I get it."

Geoff smiled and pulled Gavin against him again. Gavin pulled his knees to his chest, curling up beside him and trying to make it last for s long as possible. He knew it was his turn to apologize now, whether he liked it or not. He'd been a little shit, getting so angry without letting Dan explain himself. He should've known, anyways. Dan was his best friend. He wouldn't have done it if he'd known it would've upset him. He was an idiot and had absolutely no bloody foresight, but that didn't change the fact that he thought it'd been in Gavin's best interest.

It took a while, awhile of Gavin curled up beside Geoff, trying to work out what to say and how to say it. After what felt like hours, he finally pulled away, getting to his feet and brushing dust off of himself. "Where's Dan?" He asked, knowing that it didn't matter if he wanted to or not—he had to stop being a stubborn shit and apologize for being in the wrong.

"In the garage," Geoff told him, and Gavin went.

Dan was waiting for him, alone in the garage, leaving Gavin to question just how long he'd been there. As soon as he opened the door, though, he saw that he'd clearly been busy. A black tarp was spread out on the ground, meeting a black backdrop that Dan must've dug out of one of the many unpacked boxes in the basement. Lighting was set-up, with filming lights on either side of the backdrop, illuminating the area perfectly. Two cameras were set up—the regular camera they used to film whatever and the Phantom, the slow motion camera, which was carefully set on crates with a computer plugged into it. Dan himself was sat beside it, not even realizing Gavin was stood in the doorway, plugging cords into—

"Dan!" He shouted it, no sound meeting his ears, though Dan jumped. His startle jostled the crates and Gavin lunged forward, his eyes going wide, jumping down the two steps and nearly falling onto the hard cement floor. In that second, panic coursed through him and he held his breath, losing his balance and falling flat on his arse as he saw that the Phantom was fine and that Dan hadn't accidentally knocked it over.

Dan had stood up when he jumped and turned to Gavin, keeping a hand on the expensive camera as if that would calm Gavin's nerves down anymore. This apology was already going bloody smoothly. He had no idea how to recover from panicking and nearly injuring himself, and he also had no goddamn clue what Dan was doing down here and why he had what looked to be a filming station set up. What the hell was he planning to do?

Before Gavin could get any words out, aloud or signed, Dan was stood in front of him, offering his hand to help him up. Gavin took it immediately, letting Dan's strong arm haul him up by the wrist, not saying anything as he steadied himself. Dan barely gave him a moment to do so, almost immediately pulling Gavin over to the computer nd Phantom, to where he'd been plugging things into it as if to say 'can you fix this?'.

And even though Gavin had no idea what he—no, they—were doing, he did. He forced himself to trust Dan, since he hadn't before, unplugging everything from the camera and rehooking the wires up in the right way. Whatever Dan had planned, he'd go along with. It involved slow motion, anyways. How bad could it be? He finished quickly, having had done this probably a hundred times, and looked back at Dan, raising a curious eyebrow.

"I'm sorry," He hadn't expected to see those words from Dan and he froze upon doing so. Dan had told Michael because he thought it was best. So why was he apologizing now? "I'm sorry, Gav. I never should've told him. You didn't want me to and I should've bloody asked you before anything."

God, he really hadn't been expecting that. Dan had realized he'd messed up. Gavin had realized he'd messed up, too. Dan felt really, really bad about it. He could see that written all over his face and finally came to the realization that all this, this set-up, this was an apology. Dan, after all, knew him best. He knew what Gavin was passionate about and he'd taken hours to set this up, meaning that they were going to film something that Dan had come up with.

"I'm sorry, too, I shouldn't have—"

Before he could finish, Dan grabbed his hand in his, pulling on him again and effectively silencing him. He yanked him over to the tarp, having him stand in front of the camera and then letting go of him. More confused than he'd ever been, Gavin waited, only more questions coming into mind when Dan handed him a— what the hell was he planning to do with a soccer ball? And thus, Gavin was left looking like the biggest dumbass in history, staring at Dan with a dumbstruck and confused look on his face as Dan flipped on the regular camera.

The red recording light turned on and Dan slipped in beside him, grinning like an idiot. The lights around them felt blinding, the camera focused on him, making his hands shake and causing anxiety in him to rise. This wasn't planned, this wasn't how it was supposed to go, this wasn't scripted and he'd fuck up he'd fuck up his speech and if they posted this everyone would know he was deaf and he'd lose all those views and subscribers and he didn't want to do this and—

Dan put a hand on his shoulder and Gavin fought to steady himself. He looked up at Dan, watching him speak, working out his words as he spoke to the camera, "Gavin's mad at me today. So he's going to throw a ball at my face in slow-mo. Right, B?"

Talk. He had to talk. He had to talk for the camera.

"I—Dan!" Tone. It was all about tone. He had to keep it under control. Tone was one of the most important parts of speech. Griffon's coaching ran through his head, every bit of criticism and advice she'd given him. Keep his tone under control and his volume level. If it felt wrong, he was probably saying it wrong. Relearning how to speak when he couldn't hear himself was by far one of the hardest things he'd ever had the pleasure of going through and now it was all being put to the test now that Dan had caught him completely off-guard on camera.

Don't stutter, he kept on telling himself. Speak clearly. Don't stutter don't stutter don't stutter don't stutter.

"We never agreed to this!" He was shouting, but he meant to. He was trying to keep his volume level but still put enough anger and loudness into it to make a good show for the camera. This was the whole reason he scripted these before filming them, so he could practice and not have to do it on a whim, without knowing how he sounded. This was nerve-wracking, leaving Gavin trying not to stare into the camera, making him force himself to talk.

"Come on, Gav," Dan urged him, that stupid grin on his stupid face. "Go press the button on the Phantom and then throw that ball at my face. It'll make a great video."

It was too sudden, too much at once and he couldn't handle it. He was usually fine on camera—when he wasn't put on the spot and he'd rehearsed beforehand, that was. He was more than happy to get off camera, dashing towards the Phantom, letting himself breathe finally. He was out of the viewpoint now, behind the camera, the one filming. His hands steadied and the familiar feeling of control tingled in his fingertips as deft hands turned on the Phantom. This was something he was used to, something he could control and not be nervous with. He was sure of himself behind a camera. Being on camera was a completely different story. Here, he had all the control in the world.

The screen of the laptop beside the camera blinked on, showing that the recording was live and ready to go. His hands worked automatically, flipping a couple more switches, knowing exactly what to do and how to control it. It brought him back to reality, ceasing all the anxiety stemming from speaking without knowing what to say or how he sounded, grounding him. His fingers hovered above the final button, the one that would make the high powered camera record, glancing up at Dan.

Dan nodded and Gavin waited still until he spoke, "Just throw the ball as hard as you can at me, B. It'll look good in slow-mo."

There was a slight hesitation, but it only lasted a split second. In that hesitation, he wondered why Dan was doing all this, why he had set this all up, why he wanted Gavin to hit him full force with the soccer ball tucked under his arm, and why he hadn't said anything about this before. Above all, he worried he'd hurt Dan. Being shoved in front of a camera and basically forced to talk aloud had brought on a whole new bought of frustration at him, but he wasn't about to hurt him for it. Contrary to the fact that he'd punched out Michael Jones, he wasn't a violent person. But it occurred to him that Dan, though lacking the ability to foresee logical outcomes, would've already taken into account that yes, being hit really hard with a soccer ball was going to hurt like a bitch.

His fingers jabbed at the large button at the top of the Phantom, slamming it down. He knew he didn't have much time—it couldn't record for very long, and it took up a huge amount of space since it saved thousands of frames per second. He didn't know where to aim, where to throw it and the next second felt like hours as he reeled back, the ball in his hands, trying desperately to get enough momentum and energy to throw it as hard as he could. He didn't breathe, holding his breath the entire time, waiting, waiting for what seemed like forever.

And then he threw it.

He put every bit of force into it that he possibly could, sending the ball flying forward and slamming into Dan's face. He'd thrown every emotion, every little piece of anger and frustration at Dan and Michael and not having control over Michael knowing his story and being forced in front of a camera into it, his arm charged with the sheer force of all that emotion and negative thoughts. All the emotion seemed to leave him as soon as the ball left his hands, everything disappearing as he cut the recording when Dan doubled over, clutching his bruised and bleeding face.

They had everything recorded in slow motion. The regular camera was still recording, but Gavin didn't care as he rushed over to Dan. His nose was gushing blood, making Gavin gag and couch, his face beginning to blacken. And yet— he was grinning like a goddamn idiot. With Dan staring up at him, kneeling on the floor with blood dripping over his lips and down his face, his right eye only half open from where the ball had smashed into his face, and grinning wide as Gavin stared down at him, wide-eyed and with a hand on his shoulder—Gavin couldn't help but to burst out laughing.

He helped Dan clean it up, sitting him down in the kitchen and mopping up his face with a wad of gauze, refusing to let him even get up and look in the mirror. Geoff rolled his eyes, apparently having known what was going to happen, inspected Dan's face and informed them both the bruising would barely be visible tomorrow. The two of them sat in the kitchen, Gavin holding a cloth to Dan's upwards tilted face until his nose stopped bleeding and then together they cleaned up the set-up in the garage.

-

Everything was alright. It was odd how that worked, how Dan apologizing and esentially telling him to put all his emotions into something could have that calming effect on him. It did and Gavin found himself void of that blinding amount of anger and frustration and hesitance to apologize. Everything was alright. He was finally able to breathe a long sigh of relief and go back to focusing on other things.

"How's this?" Gavin asked Dan later that night, sitting with him on the couch in the study, a laptop on the table between them and a pair of headphones on Dan's head. Audio was the hardest part of editing any video, since hearing was the one thing Gavin couldn't do and Dan, who was basically the person who heard and spoke for him, couldn't edit to save his life, leaving Gavin to make minute adjustments to something he couldn't even tell was right or wrong. He usually got Geoff to help him with it instead, but right now, he wanted to do it with Dan instead.

"Sounds good, B," Dan replied after Gavin lowered the equalizer a little. Learning to edit audio had proved to be exceedingly difficult, as well, since he couldn't hear the effect any of the filters. It did help, though, that he could see it when he looked at the recorded wave lengths. Gavin nodded, leaning back to take a small break, staring at the work they'd done. They were almost halfway done with the audio, it was nearing one in the morning, and Gavin was determined to post this video as soon as possible—

There was something against the back of his neck.

He glanced behind him, having not noticed beforehand that Dan had put his arm up on the back of the couch so that when Gavin leaned back it brushed against him. He gave Dan a questioning look, which was mirrored for a few seconds before he realized what Gavin was confused about.

"Oh—Sorry, Gav," He seemed embarrassed, smiling slightly in a way that told him not even Dan had realized what he was doing until Gavin pointed it out.

He started to pull away, but Gavin shook his head, pointedly leaning back further, "No, it's alright, really. I was just wondering." And without any more discussion on the subject, he turned back to the computer, playing the next clip for Dan. It went on for the next thirty minutes, with the two of them editing the audio together, Dan with his feet up on the coffee table and Gavin curled up on the couch. It wasn't until he announced the audio was done and played the entire thing back for Dan that he noticed his arm had slowly migrated to around his shoulders. Dan didn't seem to notice it, though, which only further dumbfounded Gavin.

He didn't say anything about it, moving on to edit the video itself while Dan watching him, only vaguely aware of the arm around his shoulders. It wasn't exactly—shocking, per say, just something Gavin hadn't exactly anticipated. They'd always been close, and Gavin was the kind of person who didn't care about the social stigma of touching other people, so physical contact was common for him. Something felt different about this, though, something a little off of the norm. That wasn't the surprising part—the surprising part was the it wasn't unwelcomed.

An hour later, he posted the video, Dan dozing beside him, Gavin having scooted closer to him. It was then that he felt it, the notion that things were beginning to change and he knew in that moment, that Dan felt it, too.

\--

Monday came way too fast for Dan's liking.

The weekend had been stressful, but at least it'd been a weekend. The video of him getting bashed in the face with a soccer ball quickly climbed to two million views and showed no signs of slowing down. Gavin spent most of Sunday replying to the heaps of emails flooding in, spending the entire afternoon sat at his computer, reading over comments, questions, private messages, and offers. Dan watched, still shocked at the amount of people interested in them and what they did.

They hadn't discussed it yet, but Burnie's offer constantly hung over them, always there but never talked about. It was a big offer. Dan knew, and had known for a long time, that it was Gavin's dream to work at RoosterTeeth, and being offered a job, a part in it all, was monumental for him. Dan, on the other hand, wasn't a great actor. Even though Gavin was deaf, his speech was bloody perfect if he practiced enough and he was extremely photogenic. He loved being both in front of and behind the camera. Dan was just happy being his interpreter. He hadn't ever really envisioned himself as anything different.

Burnie's offer was something that was open to the both of them, though. Dan could already see that no matter what Gavin's thought process was now, he'd end up taking it. It was his dream, and Burnie was offering it right up front. But that was Gavin. Gavin was skilled in editing and acting and camera work. He was already part of the family, the close-knit group that worked there. That was his family. Dan didn't want to take that away from him, even if he couldn't imagine ever not being by his side.

It'd been on his mind all day, always lingering there, distracting him when he should've been paying attention. It made Monday drag on more than usual, with Dan's mind always circling back to Burnie's offer and what it meant for him specifically. And it was because of that cycle, always coming back to him, that he didn't see him coming when Michael Jones accosted him while he was stood by the office, waiting for Gavin so they could head home together.

"Hey!"

Dan jumped at hearing Michael's yell, looking to see him standing right by him, his face betraying that anger that Dan was used to seeing on him. He raised an eyebrow, curious as to why Michael would be angry with him. He'd gotten everything sorted out with Gavin. There was no reason for him to be angry and yet, here he was, brown eyes narrowed, leaning slightly to one side, his bag hanging off his shoulder. "What's up? You're not looking for Gav, are you?"

Michael frowned more and shifted from foot to foot, looking a little less furious with every passing second. It was almost laughable. Maybe that was just his default expression and he wasn't actually angry. He'd been given a much less negative view of Michael after Friday and it made him actually likable. Honestly, he wouldn't mind talking more with him, but he wouldn't tell Gavin that. Those two were still... Not on the best terms, to put it well. At least they didn't hate each other anymore.

"I—Kinda. I wanted to ask him about something," Well, it didn't seem like he was angry with Dan. Seemed more like his anger was directed at Gavin. Which could mean that they were back at square one and that bloody sucked.

Dan moved in front of him, blocking him from going into the office, where Gavin was meeting with the guidance counselors. He'd been barred from going in with him on the grounds that Dan might purposefully inaccurately translate something for whatever reason. He didn't expect Michael to be allowed in, either, but wanted to keep him from trying in the first place. Michael didn't try to move around him, staying put.

"What is it?" Dan couldn't deny it; he was genuinely curious about what Michael wanted to talk to Gavin about. After their talk on Friday and the following fight between himself and Gavin, he hadn't expected Michael to hold interest—positive _or_ negative—in Gavin. He was sort of hoping that was how it was, anyways.

Michael looked around him, glancing behind him at the empty hallway and then back up at Dan. "Gavin Free," He said simply. "GavinoFree."

It didn't hit him at first.

"Yeah—Gavin Free. That's Gav's name. What of it?"

And then it did, all at once, and without Michael having to repeat it.

"Bloody hell—" His eyes went wide, his mouth open in shock, even stumbling backwards a few steps. No, he knew this kid now. And Gavin couldn't know this. Wait no—that wasn't a good idea. Gavin could piece things together ten times faster than Dan could. He'd figure out soon enough that the relatively new kid on the forums, MLPmichael, was none other than Michael Jones. There was no doubt about it. There was no other way he could know Gavin's screen name. Which meant—

"And you're DaninoGee," Michael said in the most matter-of-fact way Dan had ever heard. "Gavin's dad is Dggeoff, Grif's voice actor. And his mother is Griffon. I figured it out. Do you know—" A pause; Michael looked away, one of those goddamn condescending grins on his face, jabbing a finger at Dan's chest. His face was red, his voice strained, as if he was holding himself back. It was obvious he wasn't happy about this development. Dan couldn't blame him. "Do you know what it was like learning that the goddamn site that I went on to talk to my friends, the site I can actually act like myself on—learning that it's run by the fucking people who live across the street from me?! Do you know what that's like?"

The calm was gone. Michael's voice was raised to a yell, his words echoing down the mostly empty hallway. Dan backed up another step, not wanting to set Michael off anymore. He could—he could understand where Michael was coming from. He really, honestly could. But the damn kid was screaming it down the hallway without a care in the world, throwing the three of them back to exactly where Dan had feared—square one.

"Hey, calm down," He put his hands up in defeat. The last thing he wanted was a fight. He wanted that kid he'd talked to on Friday—the calm, likeable one. "Look, there's nothing we can do about that. It's just unlucky. We're not going to do anything to you. And Gav doesn't have to know about this. I won't tell him," It was a promise. He held out his hand, intending for them to shake on it, looking straight into Michael's eyes. Telling Gavin would cause more problems than solving them, so this was a win-win. Instead, Michael just gave him a long stare, shook his head—

And turned around and stomped off, leaving Dan pressed against the wall, his mouth slightly open and his hand outstretched still, looking like the biggest dumbass in the history of dumbasses. He knew better than to go after him.

The handle of the door clicked a second later, Gavin ducking out into the hallway, giving Dan a curious look before shaking his head.

"Tried to convince me to get an adult interpreter," Gavin signed, waving it off. That was nothing new. The school didn't like Dan being his interpreter, but it was Gavin's choice anyways, and he always refused. He didn't elaborate, instead tilting his head in the direction Michael had stalked off to. "What was that all about?"

Gavin would figure it out eventually, but Dan wasn't going to be the one helping him along, "Nothing, B. I'm assuming I still have a job?"

Gavin laughed, covering his mouth with one hand, no actual sound coming out of him. Dan smiled, offering his arm to Gavin and he took it, wrapping his hand around his upper arm like usual, pressed close to his side as they walked to the car, Dan never saying a single word about his confrontation with Michael.

-

"Did I tell you about the email I got earlier today?"

Dan stopped dead in his tracks on the landing of the stairs, hearing that Griffon and Geoff were still up. Everything apart from Michael's screaming fit earlier was normal, including the fact that Dan still hadn't made any sort of decision towards The Burnie Problem. Gavin was asleep upstairs—in Dan's bed, of course and like usual—and Dan had woken up to make sure he'd locked up the house, something that was usual left as his responsibility. He hadn't expected Geoff and Griffon to still be awake.

"Was it another guy from the site telling you how much he'd pay for you? I'll tell Gavin to ban him," Geoff's words were accompanied by a light laugh. Dan stayed put, knowing that they were in the kitchen, probably cleaning the dishes or whatever they did after Gavin and Dan were asleep. He should go back upstairs, but something kept him down here, something about never really having heard a private conversation between the two.

"No, not that," Griffon didn't laugh, her tone serious in a way that was rare for him. Geoff and Griffon had a relationship unlike any Dan had ever seen. His own parents were together, though distant both with each other and him. The Ramseys were whole together, like they were two halves that fit perfectly together.

There was a clang of what Dan determined was Geoff putting down a plate. Definitely doing dishes. "What was it, then? Something bad?"

This felt a little too private to be ease dropping in. Dan turned, starting to head back upstairs, figuring Geoff would check whether or not the doors were locked.

"The adoption agency in Oxford—"

Dan froze.

"—they said Gav's parents were released a few months ago and they've been contacting the agency."

A crash, resounding through the entire house. Dan stood shell-shocked, unable to even breathe. This—This couldn't be happening. He wouldn't let it. Fuck, fuck fuck fuck fuck—

"No. no, no," Geoff voiced Dan's thought-process. His lungs screamed for air, but he couldn't breathe, couldn't move, couldn't even see what was in from of him. This couldn't be happening. This wasn't happening. He wouldn't let it. No. No. No, no, no, no. Gavin had escaped that goddamn nightmare five years ago. Dan would do anything to stop anyone from making him go back.

A slam, what he presumed to be Geoff slamming his hands on the counter. The previous crash had to have been him breaking a plate.

"I know," Griffon's soft, reassuring voice. "We'll move if we have to. They're basing it on the fact that he'll be eighteen soon. We'll get a restraining order."

"They're _looking_ , Griffon. It doesn't matter if they find us or if the agency releases any information. They're _looking_. They think they have the fucking _right_ to see him again. They were supposed to get twenty years. They served _five_. There's no goddamn justice in that."

Dan gasped for air, finally able to stop holding his breath, falling to his knees on the landing, his hands supporting him. He wheezed, trying desperately to breathe, to take in all of it, to fucking _process_ it but it wasn't coming. It wasn't fair. None of this was fair. Five _years_. His breath came in short gasps, never enough, and he kneeled on his hands and knees on the landing, barely able to keep himself upright. Everything else—all this trouble with Michael, the choice Burnie had given him, the fact that the school was pressuring Gavin into getting an adult interpreter—it all seemed so insignificant, so little compared to _this_.

He honestly wished he'd never woken up, wishing he'd never had that stress dream about forgetting to lock up, wishing he'd never come down here. He wished for ignorance, wanting to go back to just a couple hours ago when all he'd worried about was Michael Jones and finishing his goddamn homework.

A cough wracked through him, a side-effect of not getting enough air. Guilt washed over him again and again, guilt long-forgotten dealing with _why_ he'd learned sign language in the first place and _why_ he'd agreed to be Gavin's interpreter. Guilt, guilt that he'd never wanted to go back to or ever experience again. He wanted it all to stop and as he knelt on the stairs, coughing and shaking, footsteps rushing towards him, his mind was stuck on a continuous loop of _it's not fair it's not fair it's not fair._

Griffon was at his side, rubbing his back, Geoff asking him to say something, anything, and then telling Griffon to whack him on the back, which just caused Dan to cough harder. His coughing subsided, then, and Griffon helped him up to sit on the stairs, pulling him against her as Dan covered his face with his hands, his fingers knotted into his hair. She rocked back and forth, rubbing large circles against his back, Geoff stood beside him, asking if he could breathe. Dan could only wordlessly nod.

Finally, he looked up, looking a Geoff, his face red and cheeks streaked with wetness. He realized there were tears in his eyes, and if it was from the strain of not being able to breathe and going into a coughing fit or from the fact that _no, this couldn't be fucking happening_ he didn't know. It'd been a panic attack, he knew, and he was struggling to calm down from it.

Geoff sighed and sat on the stair beside him, on the side Griffon wasn't on so that the three of them were squeezed onto one stair. He put a hand on Dan's shoulder looking at Griffon instead of at him, his face filled with sympathy. He knew the three of them all shared the exact same thoughts and feelings—all of them shocked and panicked by what Griffon had said, none of them wanting to believe it was true, though all of them knowing it was.

And all Geoff could do was look Dan in the eyes and say, "They're not going to come here. I promise. We're not going to let that happen."


	5. Fall IV

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Twenty years was barely fair. Five years was just a mild inconvenience.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Pretty heavy content warnings for discussion of child abuse and by-stander effect. Also, I'm changing the release date to every Friday/Saturday!!
> 
>  
> 
> [Cross posted here!](http://gavirn.tumblr.com/post/66440265330/theory-of-sound-fall-iv)

' _There's no justice in that_ ,' Geoff had said. Five years. They were sentenced to twenty. Twenty for almost every abuse charge possible, with a big attempted murder charge stuck right at the end. Gavin would've been thirty-two by the time they were released from prison, old enough that they wouldn't try to put their hands on him ever again. That was the way it was supposed to be. Geoff had always said that even twenty wasn't fair, that they should've gotten life or the death penalty. Five years. They served five years. There was no justice in that.

"They're not going to come here. I promise. We're not going to let that happen."

It was a promise, and the Ramseys always kept their promises.

It wasn't fair. It wasn't fair that they'd gotten sentenced to twenty years and they'd only served five. That was a forth of their sentence. They'd nearly killed their own goddamn kid, fully knowing what they were doing, and they'd only gotten what-a minor inconvenience?! Five years in prison was nothing compared to the fact that their kid would never fucking hear again because of what they'd done. A minor inconvenience and now they were out again, released to the world, and contacting the adoption agency about Gavin. Nothing about this was fair about this.

Nothing had been fair about it five years ago, either.

"Is-" Dan swallowed hard, the words sticking in his throat, refusing to come out. "Is there really a way to stop them?"

He'd always been the outsider looking in. His parents had always been distant, with empty encouragements and blank smiles, but they'd never had an unkind word to say to him. For five years he'd beat himself up over not doing anything beforehand, not helping before it got out of hand and for five years, Dan had been left wishing he could trade places with Gavin so that he would've had a better life.

"We'll get a restraining order. We'll sue if the agency releases any of our records. We'll move if we have to," Every word from Griffon was a promise, a promise Dan knew would be kept and yet, none of his worries were laid to rest. They'd find a way. Twenty years. Gavin would've been thirty-seven. Five years and he was seventeen. It wasn't enough time. He wasn't even eighteen yet.

Five years. Five goddamn years.

He didn't have to say it. No one had to say it. It was just understood that they wouldn't tell Gavin. He'd never expressed any desire to see his parents-quite the opposite, actually, judging from the way he'd stood court with a completely straight face as the death penalty was discussed for his parents. He'd written one letter and it'd never actually gotten sent. It wasn't that he wanted to see them or associate with them or even question them-it was that he was afraid. Gavin could discuss it with an almost straight face and he had when he testified and treated his disability as nothing to be pitied, but Dan knew what he feared, even if it was so deep and underlying that no one had ever attempted to drag it out in full. Five years and that fear was still very real. Five years and Gavin was finally having a normal life. Dan didn't want to be the one to disrupt that.

It occurred to him, then, that Gavin was still fast asleep, just up the stairs and in the bedroom with the door left open and all. He'd never know what was happening. He'd never wake up to Geoff dropping and shattering the plate, to his disbelieving yell, to Dan's panic attack. He'd never hear the Ramseys discussing what was going on. He'd never wake up to their voices drafting in from downstairs. He'd never know unless one of them told him.

That didn't quite seem fair, either.

Gavin wasn't- He wasn't that twelve year old kid Dan had known. He was older now. He could handle himself without anyone by his side. He wasn't a kid and this was about him. It pertained more to him than anyone else. Above anyone else, he had a right to know. It wasn't fair to keep it from him, especially when Dan himself had found out on accident in a way that Gavin would never be able to. He'd just overheard. Nothing more. He'd eavesdropped on a private conversation and had found out something he wasn't supposed to.

Dan struggled to speak, every word choking him and sticking in his throat. He couldn't get anything out, his thoughts jumbled and his mind everywhere.

"You should go back to sleep, kid. We'll talk later," Geoff patted him on the shoulder and Dan just nodded, unable to say anything else. Griffon helped him up and walked with him back to the room, the trek up the stairs feeling like hours by itself. She wrapped him in a hug before returning to the kitchen and Dan just stood there, a hand on the half-open door, his head hanging. Voices soon drifted up towards him, low murmurings that he couldn't quite make out, and he finally went in and closed the door behind him, not wanting to hear any more of that conversation.

Gavin was exactly how Dan had left him, asleep and unaware of what had happened. He deserved to know. That much was given. But at the same time, Dan didn't want him to. It was a conflict that tore at him, keeping him wide awake and staring up at the ceiling as Gavin slept curled up beside him.

After five years, he'd almost thought he'd forgotten what it felt like, being the only person sitting in the waiting room at the ICU for Gavin. He'd nearly forgotten the guilt that had ripped him apart, and the fact that he would've given anything to trade his near perfect life for Gavin's, all the while on the outside looking in, feeling helpless and useless because he couldn't do anything about it. He'd almost forgotten the visitor's list outside Gavin's hospital room, with only Dan's name on it and how it'd felt staying at his side day and night with only doctors cycling through and not even being sure if his best friend knew he was there. He didn't know how he'd almost forgotten it. It felt like just recent now, everything brought back to the surface again, their finally normal lives disrupted by the same people who'd ruined it in the first place.

They thought they had a right to see Gavin. Geoff had said it himself-the fact that they were looking was telling of that. They thought they had a right to see their son, even after they'd spent five years in prison after fucking up the first time. Gavin was seventeen. He was still a child by law. But once he turned eighteen-once he turned eighteen he'd be an adult and Geoff and Griffon wouldn't be able to fall back on their rights as adoptive parents to keep them away. They had a contract that said that Gavin's birth parents weren't allowed to see him. They'd gotten that when they'd first adopted him. Once he was legal, though, that contract was about as good as a piece of scrap paper.

There was definitely no justice in that.

\--

There was a big fucking sixty percent staring him right in the goddamn face.

Michael didn't know how to feel. He was a good tester. He rarely got anything lower than an eighty, so a fucking sixty was just astonishing. He'd studied, too, for one of the first times in his life, pouring over his textbooks and demonstration videos on the internet for two goddamn days, all for a sixty percent. It was bullshit. And he knew he'd have to get his grades up or risk getting called down to the guidance office for one of those 'I'm disappointed in you, Michael' talks.

The people around him were depressed about their grades, as well, the measly ten other students in the class. He sat alone, on a different side of the room, at least a row of desks between him and everyone else. He didn't care to look at the grades on anyone else's papers, not wanting to be met with the knowledge that they'd probably done better than him. He'd studied. He really had. But it'd proved hard to focus with everything going on around him and all the thoughts and emotions swirling around in his head. The only good thing about this class was that the British Dynamic Duo wasn't in it.

He didn't want to look at them, let alone be in a class with them. He'd accosted Dan the previous day, meaning to confront Gavin, but instead being blocked from doing so. Looking back on it, that had probably been for the best, being as he had no idea what he'd planned on saying to Gavin. He'd taken away Michael's safe-place, the one place Michael had really felt at home and comfortable in the world, leaving Michael stranded and alone, unable to even bring himself to get on the forums or skype and see what his friends were up to. The thing was, though, that Gavin hadn't done it on purpose, and he'd realized that only after taking all his frustrations out on Dan. Gavin hadn't planned on moving across the street from him. He hadn't meant to do it. He didn't even know Michael was a member of the forums. He'd just unintentionally bridged the gap between Michael's online and offline lives, accidentally forcing himself into every single goddamn aspect of his life.

Michael honestly had no idea what to do about it. He knew-he honestly, truly knew-that it shouldn't be that big of a deal, that he should just go on with his life because who cared if Gavin knew who he was online or not. But it did matter. It mattered a lot. And Michael knew exactly why. He used that place as a place to vent, a place where he didn't have to be angry and annoyed all the time. He could be himself and let his guard down, which was something he couldn't do offline and in school. He knew other people like him, people with similar interests, people who genuinely liked him and weren't all fake smiles and empty greetings. That mattered. That mattered a lot. Having someone he didn't like, someone he didn't know all that much, know about all that and everything he put out there and who he really was-that felt like an invasion of privacy.

There really wasn't anything to do about it, though. It wasn't intentional, unlike all the rest of Gavin's fucking with him. He couldn't just scream and yell and argue with him until something got done, because there wasn't anything to do about it. Gavin didn't even know he was on the site, but knowing he was there and could read Michael's posts at any point still made him uncomfortable. Gavin couldn't just leave the site. He was the site moderator and he worked with a lot of the employees of the company to keep it running and functional. Michael couldn't just leave, either. He was a lot happier now than he had been before he met his online friends. He still enjoyed the content they put out. He still liked his friends. He didn't want to leave. That left them at a stalemate, with no options left other than to just get over it and move on.

Moving on wasn't as easy as it sounded, though. Unfortunately.

That sixty percent was staring him in the face, making Michael want to tear it to pieces and throw it out. He'd been stuck in this class for fifteen minutes and the teacher hadn't said a damn word, signing everything out in motions Michael couldn't even keep up with. It was hell and he didn't want to be here anymore. It was past the deadline to drop a class, so he couldn't leave, but he was still regretting his decision to stay during the first week. He'd failed his first test. High school achievement unlocked. Now he needed to find a way to not fail the next one when he couldn't understand a damn thing in the class anyways.

The answer to both his problems was getting more and more clear and he knew it was there and knew what the answer was, but he didn't want it. He didn't want anything more to do with those two. He wanted to deal with things on his own. He didn't want to admit defeat in this class and get help. All other options were unavailable and exhausted, though, forcing him to face the one solution left. He obviously needed help in this class. He also needed to stop being so fucking angry at Gavin for something that wasn't his fault. The only real option left was to get tutoring from the dynamic duo living across the street.

> Michael 2:10 PM: i need your help.
> 
> Michael 2:10 PM: yours and gavin's to be specific
> 
> Dan 2:13 PM: sorry i cant really text in class ill get back to you after school
> 
> Michael 2:13 PM: right. translator. easy to forget sorry.
> 
> Dan 2:31 PM: alright whats up? you seemed pretty angry after yesterday. didnt expect to get a text from you asking for help.
> 
> Michael 2:32 PM: i have a problem thats more important than that. can you teach me sign language?

He was standing just outside the school, waiting for Ray to come out. He'd gotten Dan's number the day he'd talked with him at the cafe, though he hadn't known whether or not he'd ever actually use it. Thank god he got it, or he'd pretty much be shit out of luck right now.

> Dan 2:35 PM: what?
> 
> Michael 2:35 PM: i need a tutor. i can pay you or whatever.
> 
> Dan 2:36 PM: why?
> 
> Michael 2:37 PM: because im going to fail the bullshit that is advanced sign language 101 without your help.
> 
> Michael 2:37 PM: if you couldnt tell this is the closest ill ever get to begging
> 
> Dan 2:40 PM: alright
> 
> Dan 2:40 PM: but only if youll make peace with gavin

He drove a hard bargain.

> Michael 2:42 PM: fine

\--

They set a time. Three. After school. At Gavin's house. Going up to the door and ringing the bell was one of the most surreal experiences of Michael's life. The house across the street had always been empty as long as Michael could remember. It was always up for sale, a real-estate sign in the front lawn, people coming and going and passing up the house. No one ever moved in. It had always been empty and then one day in the summer, suddenly it just wasn't. He'd never been on the property, having no reason to be until the day Gavin beat him up on his front steps. He was coming over on different terms, now, his own terms. It was different and as he rang the bell and waited, it certainly felt that way.

He could hear footsteps from inside, coming to the door, though no voices were heard. Michael could only assume that Geoff and Griffon were working in the downtown RoosterTeeth offices, since the only car parked in the driveway was the one Michael knew Dan drove. He waited, shoving his hands in his pockets, the wait feeling like an eternity, resisting the urge to glance through the tiny glass windows that framed the front door. A click from the other side and the door creaked open, leaving Michael staring right at Gavin.

Clearly unsurprised, Gavin just returned the stare, unmoving, a game controller in his hand. Michael shifted from foot to foot, uncomfortable with the way Gavin seemed to be staring him down. He hadn't been directly face to face alone with Gavin since the day he'd nearly broken his nose and the memory of that immediately came to mind. He was unsure if he wanted to be here, with the kid who'd invaded his personal life, the kid who moderated the forums Michael felt at home in.

Finally, Gavin opened the door and motioned for him to come inside and Michael let out a breath of air he hadn't realized he'd been holding. Gavin said nothing, silence forming between them, a quiet that made Michael just more uncomfortable. He'd have to get used to it, he knew. Gavin didn't speak in school. He could only assume he didn't speak unless it was totally necessary, which meant he probably didn't talk at home, either. He didn't understand how Dan could take this constant quiet with no talking or anything. It was already driving him mad and he'd just gotten inside.

"Up here, Michael!"

He immediately recognized the accented voice as Dan's, calling down from the top of the stairs, breaking the awkward silence to Michael's relief. He finally had an excuse to get away from Gavin and was already halfway up the stairs before he heard him following him.

One thing he noticed right away was that their house had a much different feeling to Michael's own. He hadn't seen much of it-just the tiled entry-room and Dan's (and Gavin's, from the looks of it) room, but just walking inside had hit Michael with a much different feeling from his own home. It was much more... home-y. It felt more like a family lived here, like a place people laughed and talked and did things together rather than a building where people who just happened to be blood related lived. It had a warmer air to it, the walls decorated in art and bright colors, obvious signs of life in little post-it notes on the walls and photographs hung up. It was shockingly different from Michael's house, making him stare at everything as he walked by.

Dan led him to a room at the top of the stairs, Gavin following close behind, only to throw himself down on the couch in the room before Michael could get a good look around and promptly start playing a game of what he assumed to be Halo, completely ignoring Michael's presence in the room as if it was nothing new.

This room took him by surprise, too. Photographs on the walls, clothes strewn about, notes on the walls, reminders taped to the doors-the two of them clearly lived together in this room, something he could confirm by the fact there were two beds. He didn't understand, even if it was simple-He didn't understand them or their relationship or how they could be so close to each other, family but at the same time not, and seem to fit together so well. Michael had lived with two brothers for ten years of his life. He'd lived with his mother for almost his entire life. The whole family hated each other, constantly fighting, disagreeing, and judging each other. It was unfathomable to think that Dan and Gavin could live together like this and be constantly around each other and not hate each other.

"We should probably start. You brought your books and stuff?" Dan drew his attention, bringing him back to earth. He was tossing some of the mess of laundry into one pile in a corner of the room in what looked to be a futile attempt to clean up. Michael really didn't mind the mess. This place, this entire house was-warming, comforting, and everywhere Michael didn't belong. He felt like he was intruding on something intimate, something he wasn't really invited into, and watching Dan and Gavin's comfortable interactions with each other just brought that feeling on tenfold.

"Yeah," He did what he could to push those thoughts away, dropping his bag on the ground and retrieving his textbook out of it. Dan took a seat on the couch after pushing Gavin's feet out of the way, though they were in his lap a second later, anyways. Michael knelt by the coffee table between the couch and television, the quiet sounds of Gavin getting his shit kicked in behind him.

Dan leaned forward, looking over his book and for a moment, Michael could forget Gavin was even there. As much as he didn't like Gavin, he did like Dan. His feelings towards him had gone from completely negative to indifferent and then to positive, while his feelings towards Gavin were ranging from extremely negative to indifferent and back to still negative. Dan was extremely different from Gavin, which just brought on an entirely new wave of 'how the fuck can they be such good friends?'. Dan was calmer and a hell of a lot more friendly and maybe, just maybe- Michael could actually see himself becoming friends with him. He was a nice guy, with a voice that made him want to listen to him, which he supposed was fitting for someone who was a translator for someone who was deaf. The only reason Michael avoided him was due to the fact that even if he did like him just a bit, he was still part of The British Dynamic Duo and with part one almost always came part two.

This was-actually nice, though. He watched Dan scan his book for a minute, watching his lips move slightly as he read the passage to himself, some bullshit passage about how to be careful with certain signs. Gameplay sounds filled the quiet of the room, providing background noise as Michael tried desperately to focus on the passage, but found it wasn't working. He kept glancing back up at Dan, watching him concentrate as he and Michael both leaned over the book, his brown eyes flicking back and forth across the page.

Michael sat back on his feet, trying to put some sort of distance between them, clearing his throat, "Have you ever taught anyone sign language?" It was stupid, a dumb attempt to get himself to stop staring for whatever reason. He had to focus, and why he couldn't was totally unknown to him. Dan was alright, yeah; he wouldn't mind hanging out with him more-but he needed tutoring. That's what he was here for and even though he really only had one friend offline, he knew that staring at someone like that wasn't really normal or socially acceptable.

Sign language. Tutoring. He'd sort this out later, along with the underlying problem of trying to make peace with Gavin Free, who was currently getting beat badly in Halo.

"Yeah. Well. Sort of," Dan pushed Gavin's feet out of his lap and Michael realized then that even if Dan hadn't caught his staring, Gavin had, and was fixing him with narrowed eyes. Michael honestly couldn't tell whether he was angry or curious and he'd learned that he probably shouldn't try to predict anything at all from Gavin. Everything he'd experienced with Gavin so far (punching him, the shitty pranks, the actual fucking text conversation they'd had, finding out that Gavin moderated the forums, whatever else) had been unpredictable, irritating, and so far out in left field that Michael couldn't even tell where it was coming from until it hit him. At least he was starting to get the goddamn hang of these two.

"Who?" Michael continued on the conversation, beginning to ease up a little. He still definitely felt like he didn't belong in this environment, but the lump in his throat and discomfort he'd felt before was quickly disappearing. It reminded him that he was, in fact, a human being who could do more than get angry and scream over every little thing that just slightly frustrated him. That was probably a relief to both Dan and Gavin. Maybe this whole tutoring thing really wouldn't be so bad.

"This guy-Burnie. I helped teach him so he could talk to Gavin," Dan sounded the least bit nervous, and Michael could immediately tell why. They both knew he knew who Burnie was, but Gavin didn't know he knew. This was starting to get confusing, like one of those bullshit teenage dramas girls at school liked to watch.

"Anyways," Dan went on to say, kneeling on the other side of the coffee table now, Gavin's full attention on them. "So this is a pretty easy set of words but it's really hard your first time trying to memorize them and honestly, just throwing you into full immersion isn't going to teach you ri-"

"Why are you doing that?" The words were out of Michael's mouth faster than he could think and he immediately wanted to take them back. Don't be an asshole, he had to tell himself over and over, starting to run his mouth again almost as soon as he'd realized what he'd said and how he'd sounded, trying to cover his ass and not look like such a fucking jerk. "I mean-sorry. I was just- wondering why you're signing? Sorry, I didn't mean for it to come out like that."

Dan had signed his every word, drawing Michael's attention as he talked. He didn't see any reason to and Dan wasn't signing out Michael's speech, so it couldn't be a demonstrating thing. It'd confused him and he'd just blurted out the first thing to come into his mind when he noticed.

"Oh," He smiled, pointing behind him for a second before he launched into a whole new set of signs as he answered Michael. "Gav can't see me talking, but he can see you. He's not hearing everything he normally would-"

"I hate being left out. He does it at school, too. When I can't see other people."

Each word was enunciated, carefully pronounced, empty of much tone or emotion. It was still odd to hear Gavin speak. He was alright at it, to be honest, but Michael just wasn't used to hearing anyone speak with such a lack of tone and pressure put on each word. It was odd, especially when Michael had watched the slow motion video Gavin had put up out of spite and to make sure that the head moderator on the forums was, in fact, the kid living across the street from him, and Gavin had spoken perfectly normal and with ease in it. He could understand now why Gavin didn't particularly like talking and didn't do it often.

"Yeah, I get it," He would probably be the same in Gavin's place. He'd never paid close attention to them at school, usually going out of his way to avoid them, but he had noticed out of the corner of his eye that Dan was constantly signing, even when the teacher wasn't talking. It'd never occured to him that he was translating all of the side conversation going on around them so that Gavin could 'hear' normally. Right now, with the way that Michael was struggling with learning his first set of signs in the first place, that seemed like an impossible thing to do and too much work for little reward, but—there was something almost endearing about it, something that again reminded Michael he was out of place here.

"Back to this," Dan pointed at something in his book, launching into explanations that simplified everything Michael had struggled to understand. Behind him he heard the sounds of Gavin jumping into another match and he again tuned him out, leaning in slightly as he listened to and watched Dan.

It turned out Dan was a really good teacher. Definitely better than the idiot who taught his class and rushed through everything. He signed out everything he spoke, providing a visual to go along with what he was saying. He was good at this, his explanations finally clearing up the confusion and frustrations at the class in Michael's head, correcting him and making sure he knew everything before moving on. They practiced for a few hours, Michael's general discomfort soon fading until he could push it back to his head and concentrate on what was in front of him. He didn't even realize it was six in the evening until Dan's phone went off and Michael jumped to see it was his.

He'd been here for three hours. He knew ten times more than he had coming in. That was an actual fucking achievement if he'd ever gotten one. Congratulations, he'd finally gotten himself off of his goddamn high horse and gotten help where he needed it. Maybe now he could actually keep himself from failing the fucking class and keep his bullshit expulsion immunity card until graduation.

"Oh, sorry—I have to take this," Dan told him after looking at his cell phone and getting up to leave. Before Michael could protest in the least, he left the room, closing the door behind him, leaving Michael open-mouthed in an attempt to say something to him and alone with Gavin.

Silence.

Really, he didn't expect anything more or less. He was alone with a deaf kid who didn't like to talk and unable to communicate with him other than saying something due to the fact that Michael didn't know nearly enough sign language to even begin a fucking conversation with him. So he sat in the awkward silence, the only sound being Dan's muffled words—arguing? It almost sounded like it—from behind the closed door and the near-muted sounds of Gavin's game. And then, nothing at all.

One second, there was noise. The next, none. Dan had paused, most likely listening to the other person speak, and all sound from the television behind him had stopped completely. When Michael glanced back, he realized Gavin had quit the game entirely, forcing him to hang onto the emptiness and awkward quiet surrounding the room and pressing him to say something. It was then that he had the same feeling he'd had when he walked into his room and saw the writing on his wall—he was being baited, forced into a position in which Gavin was giving him no option other than to speak to him, and while Michael knew he was being baited, there was absolutely no choice other than to do what Gavin wanted him to.

That was probably the thing he liked worst about Gavin. Given, he didn't know him well. He mostly just knew him from what he'd seen of him and what Dan had told him, with just a little influence from who he was online. He definitely didn't know him well. He knew one thing, though, and that was that Gavin had this shitty ability to throw him into uncomfortable situations like this one and the one when Michael had found his room in pieces and the baiting writing on his wall. Coming to school all bruised up on his first day could be thrown in there, too, as well as all the times he'd fucked with Michael while at school, since that had caused other people to question why the fuck Michael was flipping his shit over the new kid. He hated that ability and he hated the way Gavin used it to manipulate him to do what he wanted.

But still, he had to do it, because this silence was, for lack of a better word, deafening.

Make peace with him, Dan had told him. A hard bargain.

Gavin was giving him that look. The look with that fucking smug half smile, one of his eyebrows raised in a half challenge, half question. He was just waiting for it, waiting for Michael to break his silence, waiting for him to say something. He would, but he'd make sure to hit Gavin back all the way from left fucking field.

"GavinoFree. Dggeoff's kid."

Satisfaction. Satisfaction in the form of the way Gavin's expression changed in such a way that Michael would have barely noticed it if he hadn't specifically been looking for that. The slight widening and then narrowing of his eyes, the way he saw his muscles tense up, the way the silence was suddenly turned on him—it all made Michael's lips twitch into the smallest of smiles. Make peace with Gavin, Dan had told him earlier. Well, he was trying. Sort of.

The shock was short lived and before Michael could enjoy more than a few astonished seconds of it, Gavin had grabbed the whiteboard from the table and written something on it.

_So you're MLPmichael._

Michael nodded, the smile fading. There was now no more huge secret, nothing that Michael was brooding over, constantly stressing and getting angry about. He didn't know whether or not he'd be able to get used to Gavin knowing his online self as well as him offline, but there was nothing else either of them could do. Neither of them could leave. Gavin couldn't and no matter how uncomfortable it made him to know that Gavin had officially invaded every single aspect of his previously alright life, he didn't want to leave, either. A stalemate. A bridge they'd both have to get over.

Gavin scribbled something else down, holding it up for Michael to read.

_Why didn't you say anything until now?_

He didn't know how to answer, shrugging instead, "I— was honestly sort of pissed off?" He said it as nonchalantly as he could manage, even if Gavin wasn't able to hear. He wasn't going to say anything more. Truthfully, he was tired of constantly fighting with him and dreading seeing him every day. It was getting old and really tiresome and if he was going to be coming over here for help from Dan, he wasn't keen on continuing to absolutely hate his companion. Make peace with him. He was trying. He really—

The whiteboard crashed to the ground and Michael leapt to his feet in a panic, but Gavin was quicker, his hands flashing out, Michael rearing back as he grabbed his wrists and shit shit shit what the fuck was he doing what was he thinking goddamn—

Instantly, he yanked back, trying to pull from Gavin's grasp, but the kid opposite him held his ground, his hands securely around Michael's wrists, nails digging at his skin. He pulled and pulled, but Gavin had braced himself, holding Michael so that he couldn't get away, leaning over the table looking as though he expected Michael's every move. That goddamn shit-eating grin was absent from his face, though his green eyes watched him with some sort of interested amusement, as if Michael was playing exactly how Gavin had planned he would, which was what make Gavin so scary in this situation. He knew Michael's every move and the next one as well, successfully pulling him forward so that he was leaning over the table with Gavin, just inches from him.

His heart beat fast, pushing him into a shocked silence as he waited, waiting for whatever Gavin had to say or do to him until finally it came, just as measured and exact as each of his actions, "You owe me, don't you?"

His words were spoken perfectly, finally drawing Michael out of the shock of the whole situation. He gave one more yank, remembering that even if Gavin had wit and foresight on him, Michael was still physically stronger than him in any case. Both his hands slipped free, Gavin's nails dragging across his skin as he tore himself out of his grasp. He caught his breath, trying to gather himself, managing to hiss out, "Owe you what, exactly?"

Gavin looked about as calm as ever, his face not betraying any emotion of surprise as he stood back, not making any move for Michael, "Dan wants us to get along. He spilled my story to you. Tell me yours and we'll call it even. That's fair, innit?"

The last word tore a hint of an accent from Gavin, reminding Michael of everything Dan had told him and how he was at fault, too, having specifically asked to hear it. He knew it was fair. He understood. He agreed. But at the same time, he didn't. He'd never been asked for his story, never been told that telling it would help anything. He just let everything happen to him, not caring to talk about it or remember it at all, just wanting to ignore it and go on with his life. He wasn't ready. He didn't know how to tell it. He didn't have the words or the ability or the want and it was because of that, not because what Gavin was asking of him pissed him off, not because he thought he was being unreasonable or just trying to provoke him, that he turned around and walked out the door, letting it slam behind him.

-

"I'll walk you home," Dan told him under his breath as Michael walked out, dragging his bag along with him. He was still on the phone, having to tell whoever was on the other line to hold on before telling Michael to wait. Michael just nodded, letting him go back to his conversation as he slumped beside him against the wall, not even listening beyond the first few words of Dan launching himself back into the argument, "No, you don't understand! I have to come back for a week. It's really important that..."

Nothing like that had ever been asked of him.

He felt bad for walking out like that. Usually if he walked out the door in the middle of a conversation and slammed it behind him, he was angry and wanting to scream at someone. That wasn't the case now. Gavin had— Gavin had unknowingly thrown him into a situation Michael had no idea how to handle. He actually did agree that it was fair, because he'd asked to hear Gavin's story without knowing if Gavin was alright with it and that had clearly made him angry and he hadn't told him about knowing him online, either, which had been a bit of a shitty thing to do. Gavin had clearly been making some attempt at peace with him and Michael had just shut him out.

He didn't know how to handle that. He wasn't ready to tell anyone about the bullshit that had happened in his life. No one wanted to hear that shit. There wasn't any reason to lay it out for everyone to see. Except there was now, but Michael couldn't do it.

Dan walked him home, accompanying him across the street while apologizing profusely for having to take a call in the middle of tutoring him. It was at least comforting, having someone walk him home after panicking and walking out on Gavin. He didn't ask why Michael was leaving so suddenly, not saying a word about that, which he was grateful for and as he stood on Michael's doorstep as Michael fumbled for his keys to unlock the empty and dark house, all he said was, "Tomorrow?"

And Michael paused, his key sitting in the lock, unturned, hesitating and then nodding, "Yeah. Tomorrow. I'll be over again at three."

\--

Gavin could still remember how it'd felt on Saturday night, sitting editing the video on the couch with Dan's arm around him.

Things hadn't been the same since then in more ways than one. Remembering that night gave him an odd feeling, a warm senation, an almost tingling in the back of his head, travelling down his neck and causing slight shivers. He'd been content like that, wanting to stay in that moment forever, and even an objective person like himself couldn't figure out why and the reasoning behind the warm sparks had him even more at a loss. Things had changed between them. Touches, whether it was Gavin just brushing his hand against Dan's arm by accident or any of the other usual things he did, felt different, more charged, giving Gavin a warm reaction he'd never gotten before. He'd always been an extremely touchy person, never hesitating to throw himself at people or touch people, never feeling that discomfort and hatred for physical contact that seemed to be the norm for other kids his age. Now that physical contact felt different, though not entirely unwelcomed.

Dan had also been acting weirdly. From what Gavin could tell, the two had nothing to do with each other. He'd acted normally for the entirety of Sunday, so it had no connection with whatever was going on between them. This was something different, something that had started on Monday, something that made Dan distracted and even—upset? He was generally pretty calm, counteracting Gavin's constant need for stimulation with his ability to stay calm most of the time. Calm and always looking for the best way to solve a problem. Lately, he'd been more on-edge, his shoulders tense, Gavin often having to throw something at him in order to get his attention. Something had happened and whatever it was had him the most stressed out Gavin had seen him since he'd first gotten adopted by the Ramseys.

And looking at him now, now after he'd returned from taking Michael home a couple hours earlier, now as he sat in the desk chair, staring at a blank document on the computer screen, all Gavin could see was the kid Dan had been right after Gavin had gotten out of the hospital. Distracted, tense, anxious, staring straight at the computer screen but not actually seeing it, not even a word of his essay written. It reminded Gavin too much of the way he'd used to be.

The worst part about it was that Gavin knew Dan wouldn't talk to him about it.

They were alike in that way—both of them having been raised drastically differently, but neither one of them willing to talk about what was bothering them underneath the surface until it upset them enough that they needed to. Geoff and Griffon had obviously helped a lot with that, but even Dan wasn't willing to talk about it when it'd just started. Gavin was observant, anyways. There was a good chance that no one else could even tell something was wrong. Judging from the way no one had said anything about it, that seemed to be the case.

It worried him, to say the least. He hadn't seen Dan like this in a long time and he just seemed more stressed out when he'd come back from taking Michael home. Which left one way to find out what was going on without forcing it out of him directly.

He tapped Dan on the shoulder, signing, "I'm going out." He didn't wait for a response, grabbing a sweatshirt from off the floor and pausing to pick up Michael's forgotten textbook. He felt something hit him in the back, but he didn't turn around. He couldn't take this—this stressed out silence from him. He didn't know what was going on, but he had a good idea that it probably had to do either with whatever Michael had said to Dan when he walked him home or the phone call that had interrupted their tutoring session. Michael would know either way, probably having heard bits and pieces from Dan's conversation when he'd slammed the door on Gavin.

Griffon and Geoff weren't home yet, though they'd texted him earlier to say that things were getting held up due to a meeting with another company to flesh out a contract. He didn't expect them to be home for a while, not leaving any note on the table or any indication as to where he was going. Instead, he just walked out the door, pulling on his sweatshirt, Michael's book tucked under his arm.

Sunset had fallen around him, a cool wind biting at the evening-cooled air. The last lights of day turned the sky reds and oranges behind Michael's house, the sun dipping below rows and rows of the houses in the rest of the neighborhood, the tall buildings of downtown small in the distance. A couple houses down a couple kids played in the street, drawing Gavin's attention before concerned parents ushered them back inside with a couple glances his way. It was almost amusing how everyone here seemed to think deafness was contagious. When they were gone and off the street, he finally moved, finally picking his way down the lawn and to the sideway, taking his time as he crossed the street and stepped into Michael's driveway.

His house was a stark contrast to Gavin's. Stout and looking almost eerily perfect with it's well-manicured (and now half burned up. Oops.) lawn and absence of any sign of life. He stood in the driveway, trying to remember a time when he'd seen more than just the light in Michael's room on, when he'd last seen the car in the driveway, when Dan had last cringed and had to shut the window because Michael and his mother were fighting again. It had to have been in the summer. Every time he looked at the house now the only life to the house was the illuminated room on the second floor all the way to the right. Other than that, it was empty, lifeless. He would've never thought someone lived there if it weren't for Michael.

As he sood frozen in the driveway, staring up at the open window in Michael's room, the light on like it usually was, he wondered again if this was actually a good idea. Earlier hadn't ended well. He'd tried to settle things between them in the only way he knew how—by getting an eye for an eye—and it had ended with Michael stomping out of the room, slamming the door so hard the room trembled around him, sending vibrations up through Gavin's feet. Apparently, Michael didn't like that idea. Dan had told him when he'd first agreed to help Michael that Gavin was to make peace with him. That was what he was trying to do. He didn't know why it'd made Michael so furious, but everything seemed to, so it really wasn't that big of a shock.

The street was dead around him and Gavin could feel the chill of being alone creep up his spine as he walked to the tall tree planted on the right side of his house. This probably wasn't actually a good idea, not that he'd ever thought it was, but he was going to do it, anyways. After all, he'd come out here to do this and he had Michael's book. He wasn't about to just go back inside and try to explain to Dan why he'd walked out and took Michael's book with him. With that as his final decision, he tucked the book under one arm, freeing up both his hands, and gripped the lowest branch of the tree, bracing his feet against the trunk so he could pull himself up.

He'd done this once before in the broad daylight when he'd broken into Michael's house. From just that one time, he'd memorized each hand and foot hold, each movement sure of himself, even if his hands were growing raw with each time he moved upwards. Fortunately, the tree was rather branchy, giving him enough leeway that if he made a mistake, it wouldn't be too injuring. He soon found himself hugging the trunk, perched on the branch just outside Michael's window.

A knock was all it took.

A knock, just a slight knock at his window sent the house rattling, shaking the branches holding Gavin up as he held on just in case. He'd expected it. A knock at his window at night would undeniably send Michael reeling and startled. A second later, after the vibrations calmed down, Michael appeared at the window, a look of shock coming across his face when he saw Gavin perched just outside his window.

Gavin just grinned and waved, watching as Michael struggled to unlock and open the window, thrusting his head out just a moment later to give Gavin the most incredulous and shocked look.

"What are you doing here?!" Gavin had no idea what Michael's voice sounded like, having neither ever heard it nor had it described to him, but he could almost imagine the hiss on his lips.

Gavin held out the sign language book, balancing himself precariously on the branch. Michael jumped again, his lips parted in what had probably been a gasp. Odd. He hadn't done anything more to alarm him except... Granted, he was up in a tree and he could possibly lose his balance at any second. Gavin could see how that would be alarming, though he'd been under the impression that Michael didn't exactly like him and wouldn't really care if he leaned too far and fell. He leaned back quickly, every movement measured, an experiment that proved his theory right as soon as panic came across Michael's features and his hands flashed out, catching the shoulders of Gavin's sweatshirt just barely, gripping onto him.

Gavin laughed, covering his mouth with one hand, his mouth stretching into a wide, silent smile. Michael didn't look amused, instead yanking on him until Gavin's chest was right up against the open window, just inches from Michael's unamused face. Again, he just laughed, because Michael had actually truly believed that he'd fall and he'd tried to prevent it, meaning that he probably didn't totally hate him. Which was a good sign, since he'd begrudgingly agreed to make peace with Michael for Dan.

"Get in here," Michael was so close that he could feel the exhale of each word on the skin of his face. Gavin pulled back and ducked, obliging and pushing himself through the tiny space of the open window, falling with a hard thud into Michael's room. He'd been in his house once before and it'd been in the same way, too—coming through the window after climbing up a tree and pretty much falling straight into his room. Michael's room was also different from his own, with its uncharacteristic neatness and the only signs of life being centered around the computer and in the posters hanging up. With what he'd told Gavin earlier, that made sense, now.

Michael was apparently a member on the RoosterTeeth site. Gavin was the head moderator, the person everyone respected and went to with issues, the person who kept things running smoothly. MLPmichael. Gavin had known immediately when Michael had pulled that dumbass smug grin and told him, only having to say his username for it to dawn on Gavin. In his own defense, there'd been no signs of knowing. Michael was the new kid who went out of his way to meet and make friends with people on the site, someone who'd caught Gavin's attention but hadn't held it, since he'd ended up just assuming he was another lonely friendly kid and had silently been thankful he wasn't a troublemaker. He seemed so different online than off and there were a million other Michaels in the world. He'd had no way of knowing and saw no reason to beat himself up over the fact that he hadn't discovered it before Michael did.

He had to admit—there was something extremely, extremely off-putting about Michael knowing him on the site and him knowing Michael. Gavin had always viewed the site as a sort of private thing, something that brought together people with similar interests, letting him share a relationship with those people who liked it. It almost felt like a privilege to be on there, something private and his own, something he didn't have to share with the kids at school or strangers on the street who looked at him as if he were contagious. No one on the site even knew about his deafness except for the people actually in the company, whom he'd met, and Dan. He liked that, the fact that people didn't have to know or anything and the fact that Michael was a member of the site and knew so much about him—his deafness, the whole hospital story, what he was actually like—made him feel like he could so easily throw all that out there and destroy the life and friends Gavin had made for himself online.

But there was really no use getting angry over it, since in the end, there was nothing either of them could do about it. It'd unfair to ask him to leave, and Gavin was someone who always played by the rules. He'd get over it eventually, since Michael was really just one out of a few thousand members and he really didn't matter all that much. Michael on the other hand—seemed to not like it, either, and Gavin suspected he'd have a harder time getting over it than Gavin would.

He stood, brushing himself off, facing Michael, all while wearing his usual dumb grin on his face. Michael only narrowed his eyes at him, "Why don't you just use the fucking door?"

Right. Doors. He hadn't actually thought of that. Knocking on Michael's front door or ringing the bell honestly hadn't crossed Gavin's mind. Knocking on his window still felt like a much better plan, anyways, since it was sure to get a reaction out of him and it was nearly guaranteed that Michael would open the window and actually talk to him, whereas if he'd knocked Michael could easily just slam the door in his face like he'd done earlier. It didn't matter anyways, so he just shrugged and held out the book to him again.

This time, Michael actually took it, throwing it onto his bed, and Gavin nearly missed his small, "Thanks."

They stood in silence, Michael not saying a word and looking wholly uncomfortable with the lack of conversation. He'd never survive being deaf if silence made him this uncomfortable, making him shift back and forth on his feet as Gavin watched with dull, contented amusement. He let it settle in, letting Michael grow more and more needy for some sort of conversation and right when Michael opened his mouth to say something and break the lack of words, Gavin quickly signed something, cutting Michael off before he could get a single word out.

"What was that?" Michael stared at him with narrowed eyes, concentrating on Gavin's hands. "What'd you say?"

"Michael," The word felt strange on Gavin's lips and a small panic ran through the back of his mind, dull and blunt, that he hadn't said Michael's name right, that he'd buggered up the pronunciation or the stress in it. He paused, allowing himself to breathe and forcing the panic to disappear. "Your name."

He was a man of few spoken words. He really didn't like talking, constantly worrying he was unintelligible or hard to understand or saying something wrong. Conversation couldn't be rehearsed. It was spontaneous. He couldn't put any emotion or volume into his words when he had to worry about being understandable in the first place. Dan was his voice, someone who knew exactly how Gavin would want to come across and was able to drive his point in and strike everything Gavin had meant to. Without him, he was at a loss when he spoke and unable to tell if he was even saying the words right.

"My name," Michael repeated, his face unchanging. "Do it again. Please."

Gavin repeated the sign, trying to hold back his laughter. He was putting Michael under the impression that it was a real sign, not a made up one. Really, it was basically just the word asshole. He knew he should probably feel bad about teaching him that it was his name, but in the end, it was just bloody funny.

Michael mimicked the motions, his hands big and clumsy, fumbling his way through a simple sign. Gavin supposed it was an improvement—his signs from earlier today had been horrendous and nearly impossible to understand. Maybe at some point they'd be able to have a conversation without Gavin having to shakily make his way through speaking full sentences. That was—considering the possibility that Michael would actually want to have a conversation with him. Taking in the fact that he was still upset over the fact that Michael more likely than not pitied him after being told why he was deaf and the undeniable truth that Michael was an asshole, Gavin wasn't even sure himself why he'd want to have an actual conversation with him.

Gavin just shook his head, both at Michael's clumsy signing and at the uncertainty if he wanted to have some sort of friendly relationship with Michael. "This might be easier for you," He went slower, each sign familiar and well-practiced: _M-I-C-H-A-E-L_. Michael surely knew the alphabet, since it was the first thing taught in any kind of sign language class. If a person could spell, they could communicate, even if spelling everything out took forever.

Michael copied him, his hands surer off themselves, each sign perfect or close to. _M-I-C-H-A-E-L_. Gavin did it with him, showing him again what each letter was supposed to look like. Whereas Michael's name felt odd and unpracticed on his lips, the signed letters felt right, perfect. This was the way he talked, the way he communicated with other people. This was his comfort zone.

And then, when Michael was done, Gavin's hands fell back to his sides, but Michael hesitated, and his fingers fluttered, shaking slightly as he pointed at Gavin, a simple sign for the word 'you' and then felt out each letter, Gavin watching closely to identify what he was trying to say. His thumb and his forefinger pointed out, a fist with his thumb upwards, his middle finger and forefinger held up— _G-A-V-I-N_. His own name. Michael was a fast learner, it seemed. He and Dan had been going over the letters today and Gavin had caught him teaching him out of the corner of his eye as he played games.

"Good. That's really good," It was genuine. Gavin was actually impressed that he'd learned that fast. From what it'd looked like, Michael had known bloody nothing when he'd first started with Dan that afternoon. Now it seemed like he knew the entire alphabet and, judging from what Dan had been teaching him before he had to take a call, then some.

Michael nodded, paused, and then, a look of seriousness clouding over his expression, "Why are you here? I can't imagine that you'd fucking scare the shit out of me just to come up here and teach me how to say my goddamn name. So what's up?"

There was something off. He was serious, confused, and curious, his raised eyebrows, slightly narrowed eyes, and furrowed brow telling him that—but he was anything but angry. That didn't seem right for Michael. Michael was angry. From Gavin's experiences with him, angry was the one thing he associated him with. He was just an angry person and anything and everything could set him off at any given time and he'd hold an actual grudge over the perpetrator's head for making him angry, as Gavin had so gladly exploited in his multiple pranks against him. But he wasn't angry. Not now. He'd stomped out of Gavin and Dan's room and slammed the door in his face and went home immediately after, but he wasn't angry. That wasn't right. That didn't fit Michael.

"Dan," He answered simply, determined to use the least words he possibly could. "Call. He took a call. What did he say?"

He didn't understand. He really didn't understand. Michael wasn't angry. He was actually taking the time to think, looking as though he was trying to remember, no curses or screaming flung at Gavin in response to his question. He was—calm? For god's sake, Gavin had demanded that he spill his entire life story to him earlier and Michael had stormed out and now—now he wasn't angry? It was frustrating, seeing Michael not act according to how Gavin had predicted, how he'd expected him to.

After a few moments, Michael glanced away, his uncertain expression confirming that yes, he'd heard something and he clearly didn't think it was meant for Gavin to know. And as soon as Michael opened his mouth, Gavin knew with a lingering feeling of satisfaction that Michael was going to opt to ignore his moral objections and tell him anyways. He leaned in a bit, as if he were afraid someone would hear, even if there was no one except himself in the vicinity who could hear at all. "He— He was talking when I went—I'm not sure I'm supposed to be telling you this? Why don't you just going fucking ask him?"

"He won't tell me," His answer was immediate and for once, his speech certain. Turned out Michael did have morals. Angry Michael had morals and they were in the way of Gavin getting him to tell him what he wanted. "Talk."

Michael shook his head, shrugging, "Something about going back for a week? England or some shit. He was real adamant about it."

Gavin's eyes went wide. That was—That was a surprise. He hadn't anticipated that. Dan had a family. A distant family, but they were still a family. A mother, a father, a grown-up brother or two. Some cousins and uncles and grandparents, probably. He went back and saw them during the holidays sometimes, but he never stayed for more than a couple days. He also was never adamant about it, claiming his family was just fine without it. Michael's un-angry behavior wasn't the only strange thing. Now he could add Dan's behavior only that list. It didn't help that the information Michael had given him was barely any use. He still had no idea why, how, or when. All he had was the what.

"Thanks," He nodded, having been left with more questions than answers, giving Michael a wave goodbye as he prepared to push himself out the window to go home. Before he could, he felt a pull at his sleeve and the floor shake as Michael jumped and grabbed his arm, roughly pulling him back.

When he turned to look at Michael, confused by him suddenly grabbing him when he'd been trying to leave, he saw Michael's mouth half-open in an expression that almost mirrored Gavin's shocked one. His hand gripped Gavin's arm hard enough that he could feel his fingers digging into his skin and the warmth of his palm through the heavy material of his sweatshirt. Everything screamed at him to pull away and run, but Michael's expression, the expression that told him Michael was just as shocked as he was, made him stay. For the first time, being this close to him, his wide brown eyes staring at Gavin, he got a good look at Michael, taking in every lock of curly hair that fell across his forehead, every tiny freckle that spotted his face, every scratch that marred the surface of his glasses. He'd seen Michael many times before but he'd never actually really looked at him before now.

And Gavin was stuck like that, frozen in his place, his hand curled into fists, his feet spread apart, his whole position bracing himself to pull from Michael and run for it. Every one of Michael's features stood out to him, from his puffy freckled cheeks to his small eyes and pushed in button-like nose. He'd never seen him like this before, every bit of anger gone from him, replaced by a look of raw, unhidden shock that took over every bit of his face.

"Wait, please—" Michael said it so fast that Gavn barely caught it, barely realizing that Michael was speaking and barely being able to work out the word on his lips. And Gavin waited, just as in shock and awe Michael was, seeing nothing but Michael right in front of him, the space between them minimal, and feeling nothing other than his hand gripping his arm tightly, preventing him from leaving.

"I—Earlier today—" Michael was visibly struggling, his speech short and fast, forcing Gavin to really concentrate on making out his words. "Earlier today—I didn't mean to leave like that. I wasn't ready to tell you all that shit but—I guess it's necessary isn't it?"

Gavin swallowed hard, words sticking in his throat, "Yeah. Kinda."

It was his way of doing things, his way of playing by the rules. An eye for an eye. He'd heard Gavin's story from Dan and even if that wasn't really his fault, he still knew things Gavin had never intended on him knowing and that wasn't fair. There was no 'making peace' when Michael still most likely pitied Gavin.

"Look it's nothing—nothing like," He looked Gavin up and down pointedly to make his point. Nothing like Gavin's sob story. Wonderful. Suspicions confirmed. He pitied him because of what Dan told him. He finally moved, trying to pull his arm back from Michael, giving him a hard yank, but Michael's strength outweighed his force and he kept his hold on him, pulling him and making him stumble a bit closer. Gavin gave a full-on glare, frowning at Michael, and suddenly it was too much. He didn't like being held and forced to stay like this and he definitely didn't like what Michael had just implied. Not as bad as Gavin's story. Who gave a shit? This was the entire reason he didn't want people to know in the first place.

"Sorry," His apology looked sincere enough, though his grip on Gavin's arm didn't relax in the slightest, still keeping him in the same spot. "Look—I don't know what you want me to say, alright? I don't know where to start. My mother and father have been divorced since I was seven. He lives in Jersey—"

Jersey. Gavin gave him a quizzical look. He wasn't familiar with wherever Michael was talking about.

"What, you don't know where Jersey is? Christ—I get it. You're British but Jesus Christ. New Jersey. By New York," Michael clarified, looking just slightly annoyed. "I went to live with him for a while but low and behold he's a fucking drunk and pretty soon DCFS is knocking on our door and I'm on the first shipment back to Texas, Jersey accent and all. So here I am. Dad's since got a perfect bimbo as a new wife and a shitty little toddler. He doesn't want me and my mother fucking hates me for reasons I can't even goddamn control. I'm a disappointment to her but, you know, who gives a shit. Guess she doesn't want a gay as hell kid who hasn't come out of his room since he tried to come out of the goddamn closet. There you have it. Is that what you wanted?"

He could feel it, the way Michael's volume had steadily raised, sending little vibrations through Gavin. He was clearly struggling to keep from yelling, his face red and strained, nearly crushing Gavin's arm in his hold. He could feel every tension, could almost imagine hearing every word from Michael, trying to think of what his voice might sound like, trying to remember what anything sounded like. He could see all the emotion on Michael's face and the way he'd just laid everything out on the table for Gavin to see. His secrets, his history, everything. It was right here, right in front of him, payment for knowing all about Gavin's secrets and history minus the gruesome details. He'd actually bloody done it, actually telling him about himself and it left Gavin staring at him wide-eyed and Michael breathing hard and tense.

Without thinking, "That's really bloody stupid, innit?"

Michael stared at him in disbelief, "Excuse me? I just spilled my entire goddamn—"

Gavin raised his free hand in surrender, leaning back slightly and shaking his head, "That's not what I meant. Your mother. Your mother's kinda bloody stupid, isn't she? If she's going to dislike you, she shouldn't do it for a crap reason."

As Gavin had come to realize, especially over the past few years, people were stupid. In his mind, he silently drew up a list. Michael didn't say a word, but he let go of Gavin, causing him to nearly fall backwards, and nodded as Gavin rubbed his sore and probably bruising arm.

"I should leave," He said, holding the place Michael had grabbed his arm. He'd been here a while and Dan was no doubt starting to worry. Gavin wasn't one to go off on his own for long, even if he could make it alone just fine. That, and he hadn't taken his cell phone or told anyone where he was going. Dan was probably actually starting to lose his mind by now.

He turned to duck out the window again, but Michael snatched him by the arm again, spinning him around to face him.

"Use the goddamn front door this time," He told him, pointing at his closed bedroom door and then hesitating, not speaking or letting go of Gavin. "And. We're even now, right?"

Gavin grinned, "Yeah. We're even."

\--

Wednesday was different. On Wednesday, there was no tension in the room. There wasn't the uncomfortable silence Dan had expected when Michael came over. On Wednesday, things were better.

On Thursday, when they took a break, Gavin finally paused his single-player campaign he was going through on the x-box and told Michael a really shitty joke in sign language. It was the first words they spoke to each other since Tuesday and Dan had been careful not to leave them alone since leaving them alone previously had led to Michael getting up and stomping out. Michael had learned just enough signs to understand Gavin's joke and laughed, shook his head, and muttered, "That joke was so fucking bad it was funny.".

On Friday, Dan's mother finally said yes.

> Mum 4:54 PM: The Ramseys are okay with this? You can come back for a week if they are.

He stared at the text, hours after it'd been sent, staring at it as people in the stands cheered and stomped their feet on the bleachers, the band in the section over playing a long, loud note that was meant to distract the other team. He typed out a reply, finally, four hours later, and pocketed his phone before Gavin could notice what he was doing and lean over to see.

> Dan 9:32 PM: yeah theyre good with it.

He glanced to his left, where Gavin was sat next to him, watching the high school football game in such an intent way that if he didn't know any better, Dan might actually think he knew what was going on. He smiled, the chill of the night biting at his lips, nearly laughing at the way Gavin was pretending to know what was going on in the game. They'd come because Dan had suggested it, noting that it might be fun. Some classmates had come up to them, talking about the game and the school's team, most of them finally getting comfortable talking to Gavin and having Dan answer instead of Gavin himself. It was nice, and for the first time that week, Dan let himself relax. Things were finally going his way and maybe he could sort things out before they ever reached Gavin.

It was the third quarter, their team winning by fifteen points, people surrounding them, all filled with energy and delight, all talking excitedly and finally starting to treat Gavin like a normal goddamn person. Finally. Finally things were alright and finally he could relax and just sit by Gavin and watch the school sports team. Even if it was a crowd and even if Gavin didn't understand anything that was going on in the game, it was alright. It was nice, sitting here, both of them shivering in the uncharacteristically cold night in Texas, sharing a comfortable silence between them.

He could feel Gavin shaking beside him, could see the way he was hugging his sweatshirt around himself. Neither of them had thought to bring a coat. It was Texas, after all. He tapped him on the shoulder, drawing his attention away from what was happening on the field, "You cold?"

"Nah," Gavin waved it off, as if it was an incredulous question, shaking his head and signing it out casually. "Texas doesn't get cold."

Dan raised an eyebrow, smiling slightly, "I don't quite think that's true, B."

Gavin turned his attention back to the game, still shivering and not bothering to hide it. As clever as Gavin was, he could really be a bloody idiot more than occasionally. The game forgotten about and Gavin trembling from the cold beside him, he leaned back, not allowing himself even a single thought as he reached his arm around Gavin, pulling him close against his side, his arm around his shoulders. He didn't let himself look, not even letting himself breathe, pretending to be interested in the game on the field. He could feel Gavin's questioning stare boring into the side of his face, demanding that Dan turn and actually look at him, but he ignored him.

Don't think, he told himself again and again. He had no explanation. Physical contact had always been a thing between them, never uncomfortable or lacking (Gavin slept with him for God's sake) but even this was odd, something more than the content contact they usually shared, something with an added on meaning that they both felt but Dan didn't let himself acknowledge, not wanting to realize that it was there. Don't think. So he didn't think about it. He just did, his arm around Gavin's shoulders, his hand curled around his side, feeling Gavin's every breath and little sigh under him.

And as the crowd stood and cheered as their team scored again, feet thundering on the metal of the bleachers and a chant screamed in the open night air, Gavin leaned his head on Dan's shoulder and just for that moment, everything was alright in the world.

-

Two AM.

He'd been lying in bed, waiting, counting the minutes as Gavin finally fell asleep splayed out beside him. Two AM exactly. Two in the morning on a Friday night. He was careful not to wake Gavin, careful to tiptoe out of the room in case the vibrations of his footsteps would wake him, careful to pick his way down the hallway and to the stairs without turning any lights on, fearful that the brightness would wake him up. He found his way down the stairs, voices hushing as he rounded the corner and saw Geoff and Griffon at the table, both of them giving him the most relieved looks he'd ever seen. Between them papers were spread across the table, papers Dan knew were paperwork for a restraining order.

Griffon let out a sigh of relief, "Gav's asleep?"

"Yep. Sorry. Didn't mean to scare you like that," He glanced once more at the loft, just to make sure Gavin hadn't woken up, and then took the seat between Geoff and Griffon. "I've been talking to my parents about stuff."

"Do they know anything?" Geoff asked him, pausing in filling out one of the many forms on the table.

Dan didn't answer immediately, unsure how to get into this conversation. He'd lied to his mother earlier. Geoff and Griffon had kept him updated on whatever they found out, which so far hadn't been much, but Dan hadn't told them anything about going back to England for a week. He had to tell them now. It was either tell them now or not do it. "I—" He took a deep breath, deciding it was probably in his best interests to just spill it now. "What if I went back to Oxford for a week? I could ask around and find out stuff. They're living in the old house, yeah? I can go there and talk to them or find out stuff from the police and agency. My parents already said it'd be alright."

Undercover work. That was his big plan. It sounded so stupid when he put it into words. Geoff and Griffon bother looked at him and exchanged glances, the silence that fell between them just making Dan feel even worse about his grandiose plan. This was his first time putting it out there, having simply told his mother he was homesick and wanted to visit. She would've never gone for it if he'd told her he actually wanted to look around for information on the Frees and maybe even talk to them himself. They were dangerous and, as the court had said, using it as a shitty excuse, 'mentally ill'. His parents were distant, but they still cared about him and wouldn't willingly let him involve himself.

"Dan," Griffon started out slowly, after a long, drawn out shared look with Geoff. "Dan, listen to me. We both know you don't think so, but you're part of our family. We're not going to subject you to this just to dig up information. Geoff and I can't let you do this."

"They're dangerous," Geoff added, sighing and tossing the form he'd been filling out back into the pile on the middle of the table. "Look, Dan. We love you. I love you. You're part of our family—no, close your mouth and shut up. You are. You're not going back to England to talk to Gav's parents or to anyone about them."

No.

No, he wasn't going to let this happen. Not again. He wouldn't do this again.

"Please!" His voice rose, his chair falling back against the floor, clattering to the ground as he stood from it suddenly. Eyes wide, breath coming in gasps again, don't panic don't panic don't panic. Again, this time lower, breathed out, "Please. Please."

All reasoning had left him. In his mind, he'd had n entire list of why he should go, all of it worked out beforehand. That had all disappeared. They'd said no. They loved him. They considered him part of their family. They treated him just like they treated Gavin. He was their kid, just like Gavin was. Which was why they had said no. They cared too much, blind to Dan's desperation, deaf to the obvious reasons he needed to do this. He wasn't going to let this happen again. Never again.

"Please. Please, you don't understand," No one understood. No one could possibly understand his reasoning because no one else had known Gavin before and had to sit and watch him nearly die alone in a hospital bed without anyone who cared about him there. A kid. Twelve years old. Dying alone in a hospital of a major concussion that had caused his brain to bleed and stroke, all caused by his parents. No one else had seen that. No one else ever would see that. Twenty years. They were supposed to get twenty years. Gavin would've been thirty-two. Instead, they got five.

Guilt, red hot, burned at every fiber of his body, tearing at him as he struggled to explain himself, "They're—the agency hardly giving us any information in the first place. If I ask them directly they might be able to tell me more. And I can tell the parole officers or whoever else what's going on. It might help. Please."

Guilt, because he'd done nothing the first time. Guilt, because he'd just stood there and let Gavin go home every day to a place he knew was abusive. Guilt, because he'd always been on the outside looking in, never able to do anything, always wrapped up in the aftermath and never able to do anything when it was happening. He wouldn't let that happen again, not when he finally _could_ do something, when he could finally help. This time he'd do something. This time he'd make up for not doing anything when they were young. He'd make it up to Gavin. He finally had the chance to do so.

He'd known. Twelve years old and he'd known. He'd known about the bruises and cuts and where they came from. But he'd just stood by, not doing anything to help. No one else had, either. Other people had known. He'd had visible effects of it. And no one had done anything until it had all exploded and left Gavin dying alone and barely holding on. Only then had anyone done anything. Until then, everyone had just ignored it, letting it go.

As Gavin always said, ignorance is bliss.

But the ignorance had left Dan feeling just as guilty as Gavin's parents were.

"You've thought a lot about this, haven't you?" Geoff was talking to him, pulling him back down to earth, forcing him out of his head and back to reality.

Dan nodded, "Please. I can help. Just let me do something."

Maybe they did understand to some extent. Geoff and Griffon had seen how alone Gavin was, how everyone had abandoned him, how the only person who came to visit him was little twelve year-old Dan. They'd seen him in the process of recovery, struggling to learn sign language and struggling to move past what had happened, and they'd been able to see how Gavin was actually hurting, beneath that stoic sarcastic front he always pulled. They'd seen it. And they'd seen Dan, too, how torn apart by guilt he was and how that guilt had created such a huge void between he and Gavin.

Maybe they did understand, because the next thing Griffon said, directed at Geoff, was, "Maybe—Maybe it would be helpful. You're," She turned to Dan, her blue eyes clouded with concern and underlying understanding. "You're not a kid anymore, Dan. If you really want to do this, then we'll talk about it. I'm sure—"

"He's not going alone. I'll go up there with him," Geoff interrupted her, clearly not happy with the decision, sitting back in his chair and rubbing his always tired eyes. "I'm not letting you go up alone. Either I come with you or you don't go at all."

And Dan could just nod, letting out a breath he hadn't known he was holding. He didn't know how he'd explain both he and Geoff going to England for an entire week or how they'd pull it off or _anything_ , really, but that confirmation was all he needed. He'd be going. He could finally do something, finally _help_ Gavin instead of just standing by and watching things. He finally had some sort of control over the situation, control he'd lacked five years ago. He could finally—

After five years, he could finally make things right.


	6. Fall V part 1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> All at once, everything comes down for everyone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is split into 2 parts due to the fact that it's the second to last chapter of Fall and I needed to establish all of the tension needed for Fall's finale before moving into it. For that, I apologize. This is Michael's part and half of Gavin's part. I'll upload the next chapter/second part hopefully before next week!
> 
> [Cross posted to tumblr here!](http://gavirn.tumblr.com/post/67434432263/theory-of-sound-fall-v-part-1)
> 
> http://gavirn.tumblr.com/post/67434432263/theory-of-sound-fall-v-part-1

It was the same argument he'd heard a thousand times over.

It played to a script, one that Michael had memorized years ago. There was never any divergence from that script, never anything different. The same argument. The same points. The same responses. Over and over again. It didn't hurt anymore. It didn't leave him feeling angry or disappointed. He'd had this argument so many times that by now, it just bored him.

"I don't want you hanging out with that kid anymore."

"We've been over this, Mom. Ray's my friend."

 _Find a girlfriend, then!_ "Why don't you find a girl, then? I bet there's lots of nice girls in your grade. You don't need to hang out with that boy."

Her voice was dripping with fake sweetness. It made Michael sick to his stomach. He'd heard it a thousand times, and that sickly kindness still struck him.

"He's my _friend._ "

He looked at anywhere but her, glancing around the neighborhood until his eyes fell on the house across the street, brightly lit up and pulsing with the energy that Michael's house would never have. For a moment, the jealousy set in, and his gaze lingered, filled with momentary hatred at the warmth and light streaming from that house. Family. He'd gotten a feeling of family when he'd walked through the front door of Gavin and Dan's house. They had a family. They _were_ family. That was something Michael would never have.

"What are you doing? Michael Jones, look at me!"

The contrast was amazing—from that warm house back to his mother, hands on her hips, her mouth set into an angry line as she scowled at him, her teeth bared just slightly, her brown eyes narrowed. She looked a lot like a snarling dog. Michael could easily compare her to that. The similarities were striking.

"I haven't been hanging out with him much," And he knew immediately he shouldn't have said that. Going off script was forbidden. Shit. He was supposed to defend himself again and say that his hanging out with Ray was nothing more than friendly and goddamn platonic study sessions. His mother would accuse him of having obviously kinky and disgusting sex with him and then Michael would deny it and say no, he was not fucking Ray Narvaez and probably laugh at the fact that there was a way she could actually think that. But no. He'd just goddamn gone off script.

Her eyes were wide, her face dropping. That, at least, gave him satisfaction. She was surprised. Shocked. Hold the fucking bus Michael Jones wasn't hanging around Ray much anymore? Well, what could _that_ mean? Unbelievable. Or it was to her anyways, judging from the way her mouth dropped open. The satisfaction was extremely short lived, even shorter lived than when he'd told Gavin almost two weeks ago that he knew him from the forums. Also, much less satisfying than that.

"Where have you been, then?"

Without hesitation, "Home."

"You're lying. You've been out. Don't lie to me, Michael. This is for your own good and you know that. I just want…"

 _Just want you to be normal. Just want you to have a girlfriend. Just want you to be straight._ Or, all of the above. She didn't have to say it. He just knew. Same argument. A thousand times over. He knew the script too well by now and he just wished it would end. Like always, the entire neighborhood could hear them and while he didn't usually care, Dan and Gavin kept their bedroom window open almost all the time. This was the first time he and his mother had fought since summer. In summer, it hadn't been that big of a deal since he didn't give a shit about what the rest of the neighborhood knew, but it was different now.

He didn't exactly want Dan to overhear anything. Gavin was fine because A: he couldn't _actually_ _hear_ what they were fighting about, and B: he already knew, anyways, because two weeks ago he'd scared the shit out of Michael by knocking on his fucking ( _second story_ , he might add) window and Michael had ended up spilling his story to him. They were even now. Even Gavin had said so. Which meant Gavin wouldn't tell Dan anything and, oddly enough, Michael trusted him not to. He didn't _want_ Dan to know. It was something that had cost him his family and his relationships with everyone in the close-minded neighborhood. He didn't want to take his chances.

Even that wasn't the main reason. The main reason was the simple fact that it just _didn't fucking matter in the first place._ Who fucking cared. It wasn't something Michael just ran around showing off. It wasn't something he paraded around. It wasn't exactly that he tried to keep it a secret—even though he sort of did due to past experiences of telling people—but more like he didn't tell anyone who didn't ask as a rule now. It didn't matter and it was really just a trivial thing to him. That made it almost laughable when his mother made such a huge deal about it like this. Almost.

"I get it," He did. He really did. She wanted a normal son, not an abomination. But that wouldn't change anything. Telling her that would get it over with faster, if anything. He'd tell her whatever she wanted to hear if it meant being done with this. The thing was, even with the script, what she wanted to hear swung almost as rapidly as her mood did, leaving Michael with next to no idea what to say to make her stop cornering him and screaming at him on the front lawn, where anyone and everyone could hear. He especially regretted venturing off script, since that forced him into a small space with no room to spin the lies she wanted to hear. He'd just _had_ to change things up, hadn't he?

"Tell me where you were, Michael. If you weren't hanging out with that Ray kid then where were you?" She drew him back to earth, her voice raising in volume and intensity with each word. This was different. Wrong. He'd cornered himself this time, really, and he tried to not let the panic show as he met her stare full-on.

For a moment, he wondered how alike they looked. He'd inherited the brown eyes, curly hair, and baby face from her. The russet hair and freckles had come from his absentee father. The innate anger from both of them. He'd been told before, though, that he looked like his mother when he got angry and looking at her now, with a full scowl on her face, her top lip pushed up in a sneer, button-nose wrinkled up slightly in disgust, and eyes narrowed with her eyebrows knitted together in a clear show of anger, he realized that it wasn't a good look. Not just for her, either. For anyone. He didn't _want_ to look like his mother in moments of rage. He didn't want to do _anything_ like his mother, even if it was as small as this was.

And for the record, he didn't want to do anything like his father, either. Goddamn fucking drunken idiot who thought he could ease his guilt by drowning himself in a bottle, nearly going to prison, and distracting himself with another family he was sure to destroy soon, just like his first one. He didn't want to be anything like him. His father was unsuccessful, unaccomplished, and unhappy—everything Michael didn't want to be.

The truth was, his family had failed. A mother who worked long hours and took every bit of frustration and anger out on anything she could corner and then went out as much as she could. An alcoholic divorced father who'd up and found himself another family. One brother who worked in a deadbeat game store and just barely scraped by every week, and another who was drowning in debt after six years and counting of university. And then there was him. The abomination, apparently worse than his alcoholic father, his depressed mother, his deadbeat brother, and his desperate for money other brother all put together. The black sheep of the family, if it could even be called that.

It made him angry and he knew from whatever bullshit advanced psychology class he'd taken last year, that that was probably the source of the rest of his anger and violence. It was utter shit. Not that he really cared. People had it worse than him. Young kids had it worse than him. He was just a seventeen year-old who just happened to be the black sheep and scapegoat. It wasn't that bad, since he'd learned to ignore it a long time ago, only growing bored with his family's constant bickering amongst each other and with him and the insults and passive-aggressiveness thrown every which way. It might've been hurtful at first, but he didn't consider it anything out-right abusive. Just…dysfunctional. The same cycle over and over again. It was boring and he was sick of it and he couldn't wait to fucking get out and live on his own.

Right now, he wasn't bored. He wasn't interested, either. Just terrified. He'd backed himself into a verbal corner. He'd changed things up, mentioning that he hadn't been hanging out with Ray lately and she knew he hadn't been at home. That gave him little to no choice other than to tell the truth. He could lie but, unfortunately, she wasn't an idiot. She knew about Michael's lack of offline friends and often targeted that in their arguments, using it against him to belittle him. Saying that he'd been hanging out with another friend wouldn't be a good idea. She'd know. And she'd also know that he wouldn't stay after school for clubs or whatever, either, since the only thing Michael hated more than being at home was being at school. He could really only do one thing.

"Listen," He started out, and she immediately opened her mouth to speak, probably to shout something about not telling her what to do because due to her being the 'adult', her opinion automatically mattered more. He continued before she could even get a sound out, "I've been getting some help after school. They put me in this shitty sign language class and basically told me I have to take it and I started completely fucking failing it so I'm getting tutoring from the kids across the street, alright? They're in my grade and—"

"You're _not_."

He cringed. There it was, her hissing the words through her teeth, looking the most disgusted she ever had before, her nose wrinkled up, her expression looking as if she took personal offense to that. Michael had to do everything he could to keep from rolling his eyes because god _damn_ did she need to learn that not everything revolved around her and that rumors weren't always true.

From the start, it had been a mystery to Michael why the Ramseys had moved here. He'd seen the tattoos and Griffon's septum ring and the way they were a family that openly and actively loved each other. He'd immediately noticed the fact that they had two kids who looked nothing alike and definitely too old to be their own. He'd known almost instantaneously that something was up with Gavin and had pretty quickly learned of his deafness. They were different. They were everything this neighborhood hated.

The neighborhood consisted of a bunch of families that ranged from happy to dysfunctional with the two ends of the spectrum being the Ramsey household (happy) and the Jones household (dysfunctional). However, everyone in the community more or less acted the same—very conservative, stuck-up, and selfish. Therefore, they openly disliked anyone different. Different seemed to be the very definition of the Ramseys. No 'ideal' loving conservative, usually religious mother wanted their kid hanging around a couple of heavily tattooed liberal laid back parents with a disabled foreign adoptive kid. So instead, they gossiped. If there were two things Michael's mother was good at, they were judging people and putting on a fake front of being a loving, caring mother who kept her son away from people only because she thought they'd be bad for him.

They both knew the real reason she didn't want him around Dan and Gavin.

"You're not allowed, Michael. I thought I made that clear," Each word was seething with anger. Michael fought the urge to back away, instead standing his ground and refusing to drop eye contact with her.

"And why's that? They're helping me," It was a clear challenge to her. He wanted her to say it, to admit it.

"Look at them! Look at their parents! I can't trust you with them! I can barely trust you with anyone!" It was coming, he could feel it, the anticipation building with each screamed word at him. She was red in the face, putting her entire body into throwing all her rage at him. "You're disillusioned, Michael! You really think… You really fucking think that I'm going to let you sleep around like that? That I'm going to let you embarrass me and yourself by doing those sorts of _things_? I don't get it, Michael. Why can't you just be normal? No, you're not going to go see those kids again. I'm not going to let you. I don't want you with them. I don't want you around them. You're not gay! I don't know what they're doing to brainwash you into thinking it, but—"

There it was, the anticipation exploding as she shouted every word at him, loud enough for everyone on the street and the next one over to hear, loud enough to reach the ears of everyone in the neighborhood. She'd said it, plain as day. She'd denied it, denied what he'd tried telling her three years ago, denied the thing he was and had been, shoving all the blame on someone else. His lips almost twitched up into a smile and as she shouted it into the darkness and empty warm air, he expected some sort of sick satisfaction to fill him and instead—nothing.

There was nothing. He felt nothing. Nothing but the dead silence as she breathed hard, an accusatory finger pointed straight at him. Nothing as he said not a word, just returning her gaze with a calmness even he thought was odd. Nothing at all. No disappointment at the fact that she was still denying it and no sick satisfaction at the fact that he'd predicted almost her every word. Just nothing.

The numbness was a shocking thing, but blissful. He liked the absence of emotion, liking not feeling the deep rage usually seated inside him and finding the lack of disappointment relieving. It let him step away and look at the situation again, and he wanted to laugh at the stupidity of it all. It was just that—stupid, idiotic, and pretty much complete bullshit. His mother sounded absolutely ridiculous, ranting and raving and screaming at him as she jumped to conclusions without a basis for doing so. Every word that came out of her mouth sounded absurd and even the fact that she was getting so worked up over this, this thing that didn't even affect her, this thing that she could just easily ignore, was amusing in itself. It was _her_ fault for caring so much about this in the first place. The only reason she was so upset over this was because of her own doings.

"They're helping me. I'm not failing anymore. And for the record, I'm not fucking them, either," He was much calmer than usual, his tone more acceptable and his whole body less tense. This calmness was new. He was usually quick to get worked up over things, since he just happened to have a short temper. He'd never been able to remain calm and just roll his eyes at his mother's ludicrous yelling. Maybe—it crossed his mind—maybe he was wrong. Maybe he wasn't _really_ feeling nothing. Maybe he was just not feeling what he'd expected—sick satisfaction, anger, disappointment, sadness.

She seemed taken aback by it, too, remaining speechless for a blissful few more seconds, eventually stuttering and clearly trying to come up with something to say. What came out of her mouth was no clever come back or argument that could potentially be correct given different circumstances. Instead, it was just her trying desperately to gain leverage, "And how do I know that?"

In return, he had no snarled comments or screaming denial of her accusations. That would… that would get him nowhere. Not that there was getting anywhere with her in the first place, since she was goddamned stubborn and persistent, but he knew from experience that yelling back at her would only give her the reason and excuse she needed to take the situation to an entire new level until they were left screaming at each other in the front lawn with the entire neighborhood as their audience. He told himself he wasn't going to do that. Not today. And not any other day.

He was _so fucking tired of this_. This was years of fighting. Years of arguing about the same fucking things. Years of it. He'd heard every one of his mother's excuses and arguments. He'd been left upset in the front lawn, shaking with utter frustration and pulling at his hair and picking at his skin, trying to find some way to alleviate the anxiety and panic brought on by all this fighting and attempting to hold back tears. As much as he didn't want to admit it, even though he'd heard this fight thousands of times and was convinced that he no longer got angry and frustrated during them, every single one of them still left their mark. And he was sick of it. He was sick of being left alone in the night after his mother stormed off, drove away, or locked him out. He was sick of all the things that got screamed at each other during the climaxes of the argument. He was sick of all that. Anger wasn't going to get him anywhere. Screaming out his frustration and doing everything she was doing to him, all the insulting, picking apart, and belittling, didn't help him and worse, it brought him down to her level.

So he just shrugged. Because she didn't know. And if she didn't trust him, that was her own fault because literally all he'd done to betray her trust was make friends. Not that he knew if Dan and Gavin could really be considered friends, but it was along the same lines. He finally had someone other than Ray to hang out with and of course, she immediately jumped to the conclusion that oh god her gay sinful son was literally fucking every guy he'd ever met. Right now, that seemed more pathetic than offensive, and Michael very nearly felt sorry for her for thinking that.

"What the hell does that mean, Michael?!" She was growing more frustrated by the minute, and if it was because of Michael's lack of wanted response or what he'd told her, he couldn't tell.

"It means I guess you don't," He told her simply, shrugging again. "I'm not doing anything like that with them, but you seem to think that being gay is about me fucking every guy I see. I'm guessing you _especially_ don't like them because of their parents and the way they look, right?"

No response. Just open-mouthed gaping. He continued.

"Yeah. The tattoos. The adopted kids. The deaf kid. I'm sure you've heard rumors about them and shit. Half the neighborhood doesn't associate with them and the other half treats them like they're some sort of contagious disease. That's why you don't want them to help me, isn't it? You're afraid of being associated with them."

It was right then that he knew he'd hit the nail on the head, pushing her right where it hurt. Her expression gave it away, the amount of personal offense she took to it, but the lack of denial coming out of her mouth. Silence fell around them, choking the night air and pushing all life from their surroundings. The silence was almost crushing and he waited, waiting for her to say something, anything, knowing fully well that he'd kept his calm and said exactly what he'd wanted to. It was a first for him.

He didn't know what he expected, whether it was just a disgusted remark and then she'd stomp off or if he expected more yelling and maybe some fake tears. What came was nothing he'd ever expected and yet, it was unsurprising.

"I'm taking you to conversion therapy."

-

The anger didn't hit him until he was back in his room, the door slammed shut. He stood, looking into his room, his bland, cold room, looking across the room and out the window, his eyes focused on that brightly lit up, happy house. It was only then that it hit him, everything coming all at once, his senses flooding with anger, frustration, and despair, overloading him. He didn't know which to feel when and every emotion in him seemed to be vying for his utmost attention, demanding to be felt and shown and it was all too much and he wanted nothing more than to throw himself down on the bed and scream and cry.

He should've known that calmness and clarity would be short-lived. For god's sake, he was _Michael Jones_. It was his _job_ to get angry. That clearness and rationality he'd felt when trying to end the argument with his mother—that was all gone, replaced by emotions he didn't want to feel, emotions that coursed through him and charged him and demanded him to _do something about_. He should've fucking known. He didn't want this. He didn't _want_ to be so angry anymore. He didn't _want_ every little thing to set him off. He didn't want any of this. And yet, it was being forced upon him, pushing to the forefront of his mind and clouding his vision.

In the silence of the room, his phone buzzed and his hands trembled as he stumbled his way to the desk to look at it. He could barely hold the phone still long enough to read the name and subsequent text that he'd gotten.

> Gavin Free 11:23 PM: dan said you and your mum were fighting again

The text just made his conflicting emotions even worse. In the past two weeks of being tutored by Dan, he and Gavin rarely spoke, even though things were even now. It was mainly because he was over there to get tutored, not to spend his time talking with the two of them. He'd gradually gotten more and more comfortable with how they did things and with the tutoring itself and it was… a genuinely enjoyable thing that he actually looked forward to every day. Which was why he wanted to fight to keep it. He'd asked to be tutored. He'd gotten the help. He and Gavin were even now. They were fine. And maybe—just maybe—maybe he was starting to make friends with them. He didn't want to lose it.

He hated it, but his negative feelings towards Gavin were fading. He was still the same asshole who'd climbed his goddamn tree and then scared the shit out of Michael, the same asshole who went to extremes to do anything, and _definitely_ the same asshole who seemed to spend his time figuring out how to piss him off more and was able to anticipate his every move, but his dislike was starting to fade from him the more time he spent with the two, and Michael absolutely _hated_ that.

And he had no idea what this text meant. Gavin was blunt and cryptic at the same time. An odd combination, but from Michael's experiences with him, he usually asked for what he wanted and demanded it if push came to shove, which it had multiple times with Michael. This text was a statement. It wasn't a question. It wasn't advice. It wasn't comfort. It was a statement of a fact and it just frustrated Michael to the point that he couldn't even read the text anymore because his hands were shaking so badly.

He leaned against the wall, his legs threatening to give out, and he tried to goddamn _breathe_. He sunk down onto the floor, holding his phone in both hands, legs pulled to his chest and his forehead resting on his knees. Breathe. Breathe. Get calmed down. This wasn't helping anyone and it was definitely harming him. He just had to fucking breathe. He took deep breaths of air, choking and coughing as he did, his vision blurry and was that—

Yeah. Fucking tears. Hot with frustration and rage, streaming down his freckled face, dripping onto the screen of his phone. Tears. Tough Michael Jones was crying in frustration over something his mother had said to him.

Somewhere deep inside, he'd always known it would come to this. It was just the type of person she was and she'd made threats before, telling him out of sheer anger that _one of these days_ she would send him to a conversion therapist or camp. She wasn't really the type to throw out empty threats. He'd always known it would come to this, and it seemed as though Michael had pissed her off enough that she was finally going to do it. Good fucking for her. Giving him no choice and forcing him into something he didn't want to do. Obviously what any good mother would do in a _dire_ and _urgent_ situation such as this.

Conversion therapy. Where kids got sent to turn them straight. It already sounded like a fucking bundle of joy and fun. Fucking hell. Nothing like that should exist in the first place. There was—there was nothing wrong with him in the first goddamn place. His only mistake had ever been attempting to come out to his mother. That was a decision he would definitely take back if given the chance. He didn't need to be _fixed_ when there was nothing _wrong_ in the first place.

> Michael 11:34 PM: whatdoes that fckign mean

He wasn't going to let this happen. He wasn't going to docilely do whatever mommy told him to do. And he wasn't going to a place where he was going to be guilted and belittled. He just wasn't going to do it. Not now. Not ever. He didn't know how he was going to get out of it. His mother was serious. That much was for certain. She was always serious with shit like this. All he knew was that he just wasn't going to do it.

His cheeks were streaked with burning hot tears and he didn't wait for a response, raising his arm and throwing the stupid phone against his bed, the smash he heard from its contact with the frame not satisfying in the least. He stood, shakily and then, his fists curled in anger, he threw himself down on the bed, burying his face in his pillow and screaming as hard as he could just as the first full-on sob wracked his body, turning his scream into a choked cry.

\--

> Gavin 11:35 PM: youre a bloody idiot im trying to ask if youre alright im here if you want to talk or whatever

No response. He'd waited ten minutes, glancing down at his phone every few seconds. Michael wasn't responding to him. He couldn't tell if something was wrong or if Michael had just opted to ignore him or not answer. There was also the option that his phone had shut off or he'd forgotten, but considering the fact that he'd gotten Michael's text only a minute before sending that one, that seemed statistically unlikely. Or maybe he'd started arguing with his mother again, though that seemed even less likely, since Dan had opened up the window again and returned to studying, no longer complaining of the arguing outside.

Again, Gavin glanced down at his phone and again, he was greeted with nothing. No new text messages from Michael. Considering the possibilities of why he wouldn't be texting him back and taking in his last message with typos that had betrayed what Gavin had took as him being upset, that wasn't a good sign. Part of him was tempted to go outside and climb the tree again just to check in on him, but the more rational side of him insisted that he stay put. Which was probably the best course of action. He didn't really know Michael all that well and he didn't know how he'd react to Gavin barging in and demanding a response. He could only guess his reaction would _probably_ be more on the negative side.

He frowned, stretching out on Dan's bed and looking down beside the bed as Dan studied, engrossed in his biology book and not paying Gavin any mind. He didn't know why he cared, why he wondered what was going on with Michael. He was really more interested and less concerned, though he wasn't totally heartless. There was concern there, as much as Gavin would like to deny it. But Michael had told him the reason for fighting with his mother two weeks ago and today had been their first fight since summer. He was curious about Michael's family, about what they were like and why they disliked him because of something so stupid as sexuality. He found himself wondering what kind of people they were, what kind of person could _possibly_ be like that.

But he didn't pity them and nor did he have any sympathy for them. His interest in them and the question of 'why?' was only stemming from curiosity. He couldn't find any sympathy for anyone for, as Michael described it, hating their kids, and he wondered what had happened again, what had been said and how it had been said and how it had affected Michael. Above all, he wondered why Michael wasn't there, why he wasn't texting back, why he was secluding himself when Gavin had thrown the offer out to talk to him. He wasn't the best at consoling people or anything, but Michael's single reply had sounded really upset, so much so that Gavin had just stared at it for a minute before formulating a reply.

He didn't know why. That bothered him. He wanted a reason for why he'd offered to talk to him about whatever had happened. It didn't affect him, so it shouldn't matter. That was the principle in which Gavin tried to go by, since he didn't usually enjoy sticking his big nose in other people's business when it didn't concern him in any way. This didn't affect him. This affected Michael, his mother, and the rest of their family. Not him. And yet— He almost felt like it did concern him, too, like he should involve himself in it.

He just couldn't get it out of his mind.

He didn't understand. He didn't understand why he cared. He didn't understand this situation in the first place, either. He didn't understand, and it annoyed him to no end. It wasn't just the thing with Michael, either. It was other things. In the past two weeks, things had become more complicated, with Gavin's thoughts often circling back to that sports game when Dan had put his arm around his shoulders and Gavin had leaned his head on his shoulder, always leaving him wanting a reason, wanting to know 'why?', why Dan had done that and why he'd responded the way he did. Putting that aside, there was the even bigger issue of the fact that Dan had apparently been talking about going back to England for a week and hadn't mentioned it at all to Gavin. It all frustrated him and suddenly, everything seemed far more complicated than it should've been.

One last glance down at his phone. Still nothing. Not that he'd expected any different, really.

He tried to focus on anything but Michael's response, tossing his phone towards the end of the bed so that he wouldn't be able to check it for a response anymore. He was stretched out on the bed, forcing himself to push Michael to the back of his mind, instead focusing on watching what Dan was doing. He was sat on the floor below him, reading his textbook intently, so entranced and absorbed in it that he didn't even look up once Gavin tossed his phone away, leaving Gavin able to watch him without Dan actually noticing.

Without anything better to do and not caring to get off the bed and start up a game or something, he did just that. He glanced at the textbook, turned to a chapter Gavin had already pretty much memorized. For a moment, he felt a twinge of guilt press at him. There was an academic gap between he and Dan, even if it was small. Gavin preferred classes that presented a challenge to him and provided him with the mental stimulation he needed, and Dan preferred classes he was more comfortable in and wouldn't be too hard. They were drastically different in that way, and Dan was forced to take whatever Gavin wanted to, which was why he sometimes had to study long hours to understand information Gavin could memorize in a heartbeat.

The guilt faded as he looked away from the book, and he told himself it was alright, that if Dan was really bothered by it, he would've said something. That was all there was to it. They had an understanding to them, one in which, even if neither of them were ones to openly talk about what was deeply bothering them, they could easily admit if one of them was doing something that bothered or irritated the other. Which was probably why Gavin had attached onto Dan in the first place. Dan had always been one to call him out on his shit and Gavin could do the same in return, which created a sense of ease between them.

It was exactly that sense of ease that Gavin had suddenly become more aware of lately. With Michael's presence there almost every day after school, he'd started to become attuned to the way he behaved with Dan, the openness between them abruptly becoming obvious and the sense of the fact that it wasn't a normal sort of relationship getting clearer and clearer. He could instantly pinpoint why—it was because of Michael, because of that added third person there so much, that Gavin had suddenly become painstakingly aware of the strangeness of his and Dan's relationship in a way he never had before.

It wasn't a bad thing. He knew that. He just found it odd that he was all of the sudden aware of it. And Michael's presence wasn't a bad thing, either. He and Michael rarely talked much, other than a few usual greetings and the occasional question of 'am I doing this right?' when Dan had to leave for a minute for whatever reason, but it wasn't tense between them or anything. He'd grown used to Michael being at the house after school, even finding it enjoyable to take a break from whatever he was doing and watch as Dan tutored Michael. He definitely no longer minded him coming every day. It'd just become routine and, oddly enough, entertaining.

Oh. Michael had returned to his thoughts again. Goddammit. He really should just get up and find some other way to entertain himself. He had Slow-mo Guys scripts to write, emails to reply to, and things to do on the site to prepare for the new launch Ben, the site designer and coder, had in mind. But he was going to do none of that because he didn't want to bother to get up and doing all those things required that, as well as a great amount of energy.

So instead, he just watched, trying to keep his mind clear from Michael and his lack of response. Dan was still entranced by his book and rather than reading over his shoulder, Gavin found himself watching Dan himself. Like Michael, his lips moved as he read, though with him it was much more subtle and barely noticeable. He noticed everything, from the way his lips moved to the way his eyes were narrowed in concentration, his pupils flicking back and forth as he read the book in front of him. He was observant by nature, due to his deafness heightening his sense of perception and forcing him to listen by watching, but seeing someone this closely without them noticing was strange, especially since this was _Dan_ , who Gavin pretty much spent every waking moment with and knew him better than anyone else.

It was a chance he rarely got, since Dan almost always knew when he was watching, and so, he took every moment of it to really _see_ him. It was like this that he observed things he usually took for granted and didn't notice—the way Dan concentrated, hunched over slightly, his eyes narrowed at the page, his lips moving as he mouthed every word, the way he put everything into concentrating on and taking in the material. He never really saw any of it usually, since he usually wasn't able to watch him like this.

He could almost—almost just sit here and watch him like this. Not for any particular reason. Just because he could, because he wouldn't get bored with watching Dan. And Dan never once noticed him, never once glancing over at him, even though Gavin was leaning forward, not even trying to hide the fact that he was looking at him. It just seemed so—so uninterrupted. This was Dan as he acted when he thought no one was looking, when he believed Gavin was busy doing whatever he did on his phone, when he could really put his everything into concentrating and studying. It seemed so little and insignificant, but to Gavin, it wasn't. He saw Dan every day of his life. But never like this, never when he didn't think Gavin was looking.

Again, that night two weeks ago came back, cycling to him as it had over and over. He remembered it too well—the game he pretended to be paying attention to, the cold of the night, the people that came up to him, and then—then the closeness, the warmth, the surge of powerful emotions coursing through him, sending shivers that weren't from the cold down his spine and into his fingertips as Dan pulled him close to him and held him against his side, his arm around his shoulders, all without taking his eyes off of the game. He remembered it too clearly. He still didn't know what had come over him, what that surge of emotion that could almost be compared to pure adrenaline could be, and why it had possessed him to respond to Dan in that way, to lean his head on his shoulder in a way they both knew wasn't platonic in the least.

He didn't know, and that was probably the most frustrating thing of all. More frustrating than Michael and even more frustrating than the mystery of Dan's supposed secret trip. This was right in front of him, with him every second of the day. It wasn't something he could actually ignore at all because it was _always_ there. There was no running away from it or pushing it to the back of his mind. And now, now as he stared at Dan, taking in his brown eyes, tanned skin, and short dark hair, he was reminded of that all too well and he had to fight off the shiver that threatened to erupt from the rush of warm emotion.

It was obvious and Gavin could see it was so painfully so, and yet, he couldn't seem to place it. Obvious but at the same time not. There was literally nothing more frustrating than just that alone.

He didn't know what came over him, what was going on, but he was frustrated and annoyed and god _damn_ this emotion was just bloody overloading him. He wanted away from it, to make it stop pushing him down and suffocating and crushing him because that was exactly what it felt like. And he wanted to stop looking at Dan, to stop watching him so closely, to stop noticing every little thing about him, to stop actually _wanting_ Dan to take his goddamn eyes off that goddamn book and goddamn talk to him.

He had no idea what he was doing and despite wanting all this stupid emotion to stop, he didn't stop himself from raising his hand and brushing his fingers against the back of his neck.

It was gentle, just a simple little touch, light against his skin, just enough to feel the warmth of his skin against the back of his hand. He held his breathe as he did so, eyes wide as he realized what he was doing, that he was tearing Dan away from studying, which was something he needed to do. Dan jumped and Gavin could feel his startle against his hand and immediately pulled back, regretting everything and wishing he hadn't felt the sudden urge to touch him.

Dan leaned his head back on the bed and Gavin didn't breathe, not even trying to act as if he hadn't done anything. His lips moved and it took a moment for Gavin to come to the realization that yes, he was talking to him and he should pay attention. "What's up?"

He let out a sigh of relief. Good. Dan just thought he'd been trying to get his attention. Which was… exactly what he'd been doing, anyways. There was no reason to think he might've thought anything different. Gavin just shrugged, quickly brushing it off with a quick sign, "Nothing."

-

It all started to come down around him the next day.

It started in the car, with Dan driving them to school and a simple glance down at his watch.

"We're going to be late."

He signed it just as Dan looked over at him, making sure he caught it. Communicating in the car was always hard since, while Dan could talk and Gavin just had to be looking at him to understand, Dan had to take his eyes off the road to see what Gavin was trying to say unless Gavin felt up to verbally communicating, which was rare but usually called for in this case. That made for a difficult time talking and even now, it caused Dan to swerve just slightly. He quickly rightened the car, the simple steering it back into the right place feeling like a jump to Gavin's heightened sense of feeling.

Dan just frowned, not taking his eyes off the road and speaking aloud to him, "We're only going to be late because you were taking too long to get in the bloody car in the first place, B."

He knew the remark was supposed to be half-serious, half-joking and that Dan wouldn't purposefully get on his nerves by saying it, but it still annoyed him. It _was_ his fault, but he already knew that. Dan didn't have to bloody point it out. He said nothing more, crossing his arms and sitting back in the passenger's seat, staring out his window as Dan pulled into the school's parking-lot so he wouldn't have to talk anymore.

He'd been on edge since yesterday, constantly tense and stressed out after Michael didn't text back the entire damn night and after watching Dan study and getting that rush of emotion. After all that he'd dove straight into all the things he was supposed to do, distracting himself by writing and cleaning up scripts and replying to emails and messages, forcing himself to involve himself completely and wholly in other things so he didn't have to think about anything else. The worst part was that it worked, leaving him too exhausted to do anything but stumble into bed at one in the morning after Dan was already long since asleep.

He couldn't do that now, though. He had school. Responsibilities. He had to focus on the things right in front of him. Secluding himself was impossible now. He'd have Michael in most of his classes and Dan in all of them and then after school he'd still have to deal with the two of them. He was usually fine with it and enjoyed the little after-school tutoring sessions, but everything was too much and he was frustrated at the two of them—Michael for not talking to him and instead isolating himself and Dan for causing… whatever the hell was going on in the first place between them. His frustrations at Dan weren't actually Dan's fault, per say, and while Gavin knew that, he still ended up feeling irritated and annoyed at him.

Dan parked and Gavin moved immediately to get out of the car, but almost instantly Dan grabbed him by the wrist, holding him back in a gentle grip that Gavin could easily pull out of if he wanted to. He didn't, staying put and looking at Dan, frozen with the car door half open, his bag over one shoulder, stuck like that in the middle of the busy parking lot, neither of them speaking for a split second.

"You alright?" It was unexpected, something Gavin hadn't seen coming. He didn't think Dan had picked up on any of his annoyance and inner conflict. He'd thought he'd kept it well enough concealed that it wasn't noticeable. Apparently not.

He just nodded, swallowing hard before pulling out of Dan's hold, slamming the door to the car so suddenly it shook the ground, and walking off into the school without waiting for him to catch up.

It wasn't that he was angry. Well—not at Dan, anyways. Michael, yes. Dan, no. He wasn't angry. He was just bothered by it, by this sudden change between them, by the sudden flurry of thoughts and emotions, by the question of why had he done this or why he had done that. It was overwhelming. And he couldn't stand it, now constantly craving solitude or any sort of escape from all that. He just didn't want to deal with it. It wasn't in his usual 'I can't be bothered to deal with it' way, either. He didn't want to realize it was there. He didn't want change or new things. He wanted things to stay the way they were. The way things were was fine. Absolutely top. He liked the way things were a lot, with the way his life was going. He didn't want any of that to change.

Change had always signified a bad thing in his life. He was happy now. He had a family. He had Dan. He could make friends with people at school. He had a job offer from Burnie. And he was popular on the internet because of his slow motion videos. Everything was going fine. He didn't want any of that to potentially go away due to change and yet, he knew it was inevitable. People changed. He knew that. He knew that too well. It wasn't something he could stop, even if he wanted to, so instead he just had to sit and watch it happen. This was everything he'd ever wanted and he could feel it changing, leaving him to simply wonder why his feelings were changing _now_ of all times.

Dan didn't catch up with him and Gavin entered the school by himself, pushing his way through people pressed close together, the crowd ten times more dense than it usually was, which was odd, taking into consideration the fact that this was the honors hallway and no one who wasn't in the honors program usually ventured down here. He pushed his way through people, some of them jabbing back at him, but backing off when they received the harsh scowl they gave him. This was definitely odd. It couldn't be that he just didn't usually notice it when he usually walked with Dan. Something was off. This crowd was here for a reason, gathered around something to watch it happen, and as he pushed his way towards the front, shoving between classmates and underclassmen, he didn't have the slightest notion what it could be.

Oh _shit_.

He wasn't short, but he wasn't tall, either. To see what was going on, Gavin had to get himself to the first few rows of kids, though not the front. He could see from here. He could see clearly. And what he saw suddenly made sense, making him freeze in his tracks, not bothering to squeeze to the front because that was bloody _Michael Jones_ in the middle of the cleared circle, the other students gathered him to see what was transpiring. Michael Jones and some other kid Gavin had never seen before, grinning at Michael and towering over him, lanky, smirking, and looking as though he was ready to take on the entire goddamn world.

Michael was red in the face, his teeth clenched together in a momentary snarl before pointing an accusatory finger at the other kid and yelling right back at him. Everything about him screamed _angry_ , from the way he stood up straighter to make himself look bigger against the taller (and probably weaker) kid to the way his eyes were narrowed in an unsettling glare, his nose wrinkled up slightly in a picture of absolute disgust, his eyebrows knitted together in obvious frustration. He was angry, angry in a way that reminded Gavin of the day he'd accidentally set Michael on fire, the look in his eyes almost exactly the same as when Michael had grabbed him, his hand raised and seconds from striking him.

Michael Jones was getting himself into a fight.

He'd heard (Ha.) rumors about Michael. The other students in class talked about him occasionally, especially when he'd come in that first day with a bruised face, Dan transposing their murmurings to signs, letting Gavin know what was going on in the conversations around him. Michael fought a lot. Big surprise. It was no shock—Michael was a grade A angry kid who could probably benefit from some classes on how to deal with his anger. He had another side to him, of course, but that didn't make him any less angry as a whole. He'd nearly hit Gavin the first time he'd met him and seemed to yell at anything that moved if it got on his wrong side. According to the rumors he knew about, Michael had fought a lot last year, winning most of his fights and nearly getting expelled from school. But he hadn't gotten in any fights this year. From the looks of it, this was the first one.

This wasn't good. Michael had sounded upset in his single text last night and even if Gavin was pissed about him not even answering if he was alright, his lack of response still meant something he couldn't just throw off to the side. It meant he _was_ upset, that he was too upset to even answer a text and from the looks of it and the fact that he hadn't taken him up on his offer to talk with him, being upset had manifested itself in Michael and made him easier to provoke than usual. It wasn't a rare thing—being upset meant stress and stress meant people were more on-edge and with Michael, on-edge seemed to mean that he wanted to be left alone and would quickly jump to violence if provoked even in the slightest.

They rallied back and forth, fast, Michael looking as if he were screaming every word at the other kid, the other kid yelling straight back at him, making Michael more and more pissed with everything he said. Most of it was too fast for Gavin to catch when he was distracted and not fully paying attention to their words, but more on how in the hell to stop it in the first place. All he could make out was something about the argument between Michael and his mother last night and how the other kid had heard it. Which would explain it. Michael's anger was clearly stemming from whatever had happened between he and his mother, so being reminded of it and having it turned into ridicule would be a recipe for disaster. It also meant that Michael would stand his ground and not back down.

And that wasn't good. His mind lingered on one thing, one word. Expelled. Michael could get kicked out of school for fighting. He couldn't let that happen when he knew Michael was just emotionally charged and would regret this later. An outlet. That was what he was looking for. Something to displace his anger on. That's why he was doing this. And Gavin wasn't going to let him. He wasn't going to let him potentially _ruin his life_ just because he wanted something to take his anger out on.

For once, Gavin didn't do what he considered the most logical. For once, he _didn't_ play by the rules. For once, he decided _fuck_ all those rules. He was going to do what every single logical thought advised him _not_ to do. He didn't let himself wonder 'why?'. He didn't try to tell himself he didn't care what happened to Michael and he didn't ask himself why he should care what happened to him. Because the fact of the matter was that he _did_ bloody care and he wasn't going to let him do this.

Two underclassmen were standing in front of him, oogling at the sight before them and Gavin easily shouldered his way between them, dropping his bag to the floor as he did. Someone grabbed his shoulder, and he spun to face them, quickly shoving them off, not letting himself reconsider, knowing he'd come to the conclusion that this wasn't a good idea and that he shouldn't get himself involved. He left no time for hesitation or forethought and once he turned again to look back at what he was about to throw himself into, he saw that the argument had spun to be ten times worse, the two of them closer, both of them screaming and red faced and then—

He saw it. Tall blonde straggly kid raised his arm, reeling back, and he saw his chance, his last chance.

He felt it. The shock, the vibrations of his own feet thundering against the ground and then his shoes squealing and sliding against the linoleum in a way that Gavin could almost _hear_ in his useless ears. He felt every eye on him, the shock emanating from the crowd around him, and more than anything, more than what came next, he felt that fragment of a moment before the impact, as he stood there, his feet apart in a defensive stance, standing straight up, his mouth open in a half-gasp as he tried to _breathe_ after moving so quickly, his eyes wide open in disbelief both at himself and at the situation.

And then—impact.

It was something he should've expected, really. The kid was already in the process of throwing a punch at Michael. Gavin had just happened to get in the way before the impact hit him.

The next thing he felt was every bit of air leaving him and then the absence of floor beneath his feet. Then the abundance of floor underneath his arse as he was knocked to the ground. After that, pain.

He'd had a lot of injuries from punches as well as other means, but he'd never quite taken such a brutal fall to his arse, and never in front of so many people. To be brutally honest, it goddamn _hurt_. A lot. So much so that he couldn't even catch his breath after getting the wind knocked out of him before he felt the floor shake with a magnitude only he could feel, looking up just in time to see none other than Dan force his way through the crowd and barrel into the opening, his hands instantly all over the unknown kid, bowling him into a wall, slamming him against the brick and holding him there by the shoulders, leaning in to growl something to him that Gavin couldn't catch due to the fact that he was dizzy from breathing so hard.

That was exactly how the guidance counselor found them.

-

Someone had snitched, running to get a teacher, who'd in turn run to get a higher-up, who'd then run to the guidance counselor. The guidance counselor had marched himself down and broken up the fight, taking the four of them into his office one at a time. Michael and Unknown Kid were in there the longest, Dan close behind them in terms of time, and Gavin let off with a simple scolding, a childish 'tell a teacher next time', and a shit load of pity. Since Michael didn't actually throw any punches and had just caused a commotion, he was given an essay to write on how violence affects public schools. Unknown Kid was given a three-day suspension. Dan was let off with a warning, despite the fact that Gavin didn't think he'd actually done anything _wrong_. Or at least, no more wrong than he had.

The entire thing just left Gavin more annoyed than he'd started out with. He felt—bad about walking off from Dan. He had had no reason to do that and it pissed him off that Dan was given a warning for protecting Gavin, which was essentially in his job description (not that he was paid, anyways). He'd been in the wrong there and owed Dan an apology he'd get. Michael, on the other hand—he was angrier at Michael than he'd been before. He'd offered to help him, to talk to him. Michael could've easily taken him up on it. And yet—he was venting his anger by doing this, something that could've ended up with him suspended or expelled. It pissed him off to no end because goddammit he'd _tried to actually help_.

He saw Michael next outside the guidance office just as he was leaving with Dan to go to class. He was lingering outside, leaning on the wall of lockers, obviously waiting. He didn't look angry or irritated, his eyes instead focused on the wall behind them as Gavin headed directly towards him, only flicking back to meet Gavin's glare for a few seconds, something that was odd for him, since Michael almost always held eye contact with him. He closed the last bit of space between them, eyeing Michael with caution, the most pissed at him he'd ever been. Not even Michael defining Gavin as simply deaf topped this.

"Look—"

He didn't have enough time to get the rest of that sentence out. Gavin's hands were already on his chest, grabbing him just below the collar of his shirt, pulling him forward and he was filled with the inexplicable urge to beat his goddamn fists against his chest and try to express every bit of anger he had at him. He wouldn't, though. Violence didn't solve anything and the urge pushed at him, edging at him, but he wouldn't He wouldn't sink to that level. That level was where he put only the most pathetic people. Instead, he just shoved Michael away from him and Michael did nothing to fight back as Gavin shoved him hard, Michael's legs buckling under him as he fell backwards from the force Gavin put into the push, falling flat on his arse just as Gavin had before.

His lack of resistance clued Gavin in on the notion he might know the reason why he was so annoyed at him. Which really just made him angrier. If Michael had _known_ he'd be angry, then why had he done it in the first place?!

There was a hand at his shoulder. Dan's. A reminder to stay calm. He ignored it.

"Gavin—" He stared down at Michael, grinding his teeth in the sheer amount of raw anger he felt. Michael could've talked to him, But instead he'd just kept it all in and now he was going to bloody defend himself. "I saw your text, alright? Look, I—I was—"

"If you _saw_ it, why didn't you respond?! Why did you do this?! Why? You're a goddamned angry idiot and you could've prevented all this by just _talking_."

He could feel it, every bit of it. He could almost hear his own voice, could almost feel the echo of the brokenness and lack of control over it in his fingertips. He threw everything out the window, tossing out everything Griffon had taught him, all her tips and reminders, screaming at Michael and straining to hear his own voice, his vocal cords protesting as he raised his volume for every word he couldn't hear, which, was to say, _all of them_. It was like this that he was reminded the most of his deafness, when he tried to speak, to yell his every frustration and yet, no words came back to him, no anger and no frustrations and no way to control himself or get it all out. _This_ was his undoing, his loss of control, and he just kept going and going, barely even remembering how to pronounce words with their strange foreign feeling on his tongue.

"You could've just talked to me! I _offered_ , Michael! I offered and you—you just ignored me and I spent the entire goddamn night waiting for you to tell me that you were goddamned alright and not bleeding or hurt or anything, alright?! I offered! I _hate_ you! I hate this and I hate you and I hate that I got involved and I hate that I care about your bloody angry arse and I hate that I can't _stop_ caring and I hate—"

There were hands yanking him back and Gavin fought against Dan, squirming and trying to pry his hands off of him as he pulled him back against him, finally shutting his mouth, finally forcing him to regain control. His arms were around him and Michael was gone, scrambled up and running to one of his classes, and there was nothing Gavin could do but stop fighting and go still and wonder what he'd just done and what had just happened.

He hadn't lost control like that in a long time. He hadn't completely let his guard down like that in at least five years. He felt naked. Vulnerable.

Dan held onto him, keeping him from moving or screaming anymore, his hold combating his feeling of vulnerability, a defense against Gavin's feeling unsafe and stranded.

It took a while. Or at least, it felt like a while. A long while. But eventually, he was alright. He couldn't remember the last time he'd completely lost it, but it was probably at some point in the rehabilitation center, back when there'd been a lot of distance between he and Dan, which had led to numerous fights of Gavin screaming words he couldn't hear at Dan and then shutting him out completely. Back then, he'd felt this same way. But he was fine now and gradually, he built back up his defenses, giving him protection against the outside world, and found the strength to finally pull away.

It'd been a few minutes tops. He felt like he was still catching his breath.

Dan said nothing. Gavin didn't, either. For the first time in a while, there was no weird feeling he was constantly trying to hold back between them. Just their usual mutual, silent understanding. And so, Gavin took the time to apologize, signing his apology to him as the two of them stood alone in the hallway just outside the guidance office.

"I'm sorry. For dragging you into this. For whatever that was. For everything. Let's just go to class or whatever. I don't want to think about this anymore."

There was no signed or verbal response. Instead Dan just offered his arm to him and Gavin wrapped his hand around it, the two of them finally walking to class, enveloped in a silent understanding that both of them had grown so used to.

It was only then, in the moment of clarity leftover from his breakdown, that he started to realize what was going on.


	7. Fall V part 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> All at once, everything comes down for everyone, part two.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next up, the finale of fall!
> 
> [Cross-posted here!](http://gavirn.tumblr.com/post/68109031481/theory-of-sound-fall-v-part-2)

 

Seven days passed. Then three more.

Gavin didn't say a word to Michael in those ten days. After school, Dan dropped him off at the downtown RoosterTeeth office and picked him up after he was done with Michael. He didn't talk to Michael. He didn't even look at Michael. He wanted nothing to do with him. He refused to go home even where there was no one in the office. On one occasion, he sat outside the locked section of offices for an hour until Gus came back, gave him an incredulous stare, and let him in. Gavin refused to talk about it, cutting Dan off every time he brought Michael up, knowing full well obvious

The cycle was the same every day—Dan drove him to the offices, dropped him off, Gavin helped out in whatever way he could or fucked around with the rest of the employees, and then Dan picked him up or he went home with Geoff. And then, that Friday, that cycle was completely disrupted.

Burnie was leaning in the doorway of their section of the building when Dan walked Gavin up to the RoosterTeeth offices, obviously waiting for them. At that point, there was no confusion or surprise. Gavin immediately knew what was going on and from the way he stiffened and his muscles tensed where Gavin had his usual hold on his arm, Dan did too. For Gavin, it was an absolute relief. Honestly, he hadn't stressed much over this. It was a simple decision, really, and he'd made his mind up long before today. He'd always known what his answer would be. He spared a glance at Dan, fighting to keep a smirk from erupting on his face, and was met with an almost worried looking expression.

That should've been the first thing to throw him off. Instead, he was too giddy about the whole prospect to worry about it.

Burnie approached them, that same friendly grin on his face that Gavin always associated him with, and he hung onto his every word as he spoke, watching his lips closely as if he _wouldn't_ say what Gavin expected him to, "Have you two given it any thought? What we talked about a while ago, I mean."

The apprehensive look remained on Dan's face. Strike one.

Gavin signed his response, for once not having to rely on Dan to translate everything. He was enthusiastic, his hands quivering with excitement as he did so, "I mean—it's pretty clear, isn't it? Not much to think about."

It was no secret that it was Gavin's dream to work at the company. Even before going deaf he'd always had a strong, unwavering interest in two things—video games and cameras. His passion for cameras and filming had soon led to an even greater passion for filming things in slow motion, which had ended up with Burnie giving him the Phantom, something Gavin had never dreamed of. He'd always loved being behind the camera. It'd always given him a sense of control, since as the person filming and editing, he could work the scene to any whim he wanted. And he liked being in front of it, too.

His reasoning for wanting to work at the company actually had nothing to do with his dad working there. Geoff had been the reason he'd found out about the company in the first place, but it had evolved to something more beyond that. He loved the content and shows they produced, loved the feel and community involved in it, and, above all, loved what they stood for and how the company could evolve quickly and how fast it was growing into something larger than just a popular show on the internet. Everything drew him in, opening possibilities he'd never dreamed of having. After all—what professional film team would put a deaf kid behind a camera? Technically it was illegal to not do so just because of a disability, but this was reality and, in reality, people judged people on their outward appearance and what their immediate impression of them was.

But RoosterTeeth wasn't like that. No one here treated him as just a deaf kid. No one cared about his inability to hear. No one cared that he was just a kid. No one cared that he was Geoff's son. People listened to his ideas here. People made judgments about him based on his talent behind and on the camera. People didn't give him any crap or pity. They treated him just like anyone else, and their impressions of him were because of his ability to film, edit, act, and generally help out around the office wherever he could. He knew he'd never be able to get that anywhere else and to be completely honest, he didn't want to. He was close to the people here and they treated him like their own family. He had a future for himself here, one that he'd built himself solely based on his abilities and talents and not on pity or charity. One that he'd worked for.

His answer was yes. That much was obvious and could be left unsaid. This wasn't just an offer to do live-action stuff. This was a job offer.

He turned to Dan again, waiting for him to agree with him, to grin and say something either dumb or snarky. Instead, he was met with nothing but a worried glance his way. Strike two.

Burnie was waiting, too, and even if he was patient, Gavin most definitely was not. He could feel the tension radiating off of Dan in waves, stress accompanying it. Strike three and he knew it was over before he even saw Dan open his mouth to say anything.

"Well—I… I'm not great behind a camera or on it. I don't think I'm good for it. That's Gav's area. I'll just stay on the sidelines and help him with his lines and whatever else."

More tension. Gavin looked Dan over, taking in his hunched over shoulders and the way he was wringing his hands together, like he was nervous. It took him a moment to realize that that was exactly what it was and yet another to see the lines of worry drawn into Dan's face, the obvious marker of the fact that he knew how shell-shocked Gavin was by this.

And he was. He'd always—always expected—

He'd always expected they'd go into it together.

It'd always just been an accepted value. He'd never had to question it or think otherwise. He'd always assumed it. Dan liked the company a lot, too. He liked filming things with Gavin. He liked games and watching the stuff they produced. Gavin had always thought he and Dan would go into it together. It wasn't just because he was his interpreter and translator, but because Dan was his best friend and being separated from him, to not have him by his side or accompanying him—it wasn't something Gavin was used to at all.

He'd never said anything about _not_ wanting to work with Gavin at the company. He'd never said anything to cue him in on that ever. And now—now he was left staring wide-eyed up at him, watching as Dan's eyes flicked towards him and then quickly away, and he was left with the same feeling of guilt he'd gotten when watching Dan study material he hadn't exactly chosen to learn. It was Gavin. It was all Gavin. It occurred to him for the first time that maybe Dan didn't _want_ to be here at all. He could be a normal teenager. He could be back in England with his real family. But he was here. With Gavin. Constantly forced to follow him around and translate for him, constantly getting lumped in with him and not really given his own choices.

It was all him.

He'd always expected they'd go into it together. He'd been wrong.

And now, a couple hours after the whole ordeal, Gavin still wasn't over the shock. He hadn't said a word about it, Burnie promising Gavin they'd talk later, probably after having seen Gavin's complete shock, and he'd awkwardly waved a short goodbye to Dan and turned him away, shutting him out and not letting him say anything else in doing so.

He'd always expected—no, _wanted_ —to work at the company with Dan. He'd never dreamed he'd be doing it alone. Actually, he never dreamed he'd be doing _anything_ alone. He could. That was a big part of his life, his independence being something Gavin held a lot of importance to, but he didn't actually _want_ to be alone in anything. Not because he couldn't, but because he didn't like to. He found things much more interesting and easier with Dan around. Not with just anyone. Dan. Five years of having him around him constantly had made it difficult for Gavin to be without him. He was his constant companion, someone who actually understood him and didn't pass him off as some troublemaking deaf kid with a penchant for bothering people in subtle ways. Dan was someone he could talk to about anything, someone who laughed at his dumb jokes and could actually sense when something was wrong with him, someone who knew him better than anyone and someone who Gavin could have a conversation with for hours and not get bored.

Two taps on his shoulder. Gavin spun around in his desk chair to see Geoff. He set a cup of coffee down in front of Gavin before taking a seat next to him at the computer. Gavin just stared for a few moments before quickly waving off a thank you. It was returned with a curious raise of an eyebrow and the question Gavin dreaded the most.

"What's wrong?"

A heavy sigh rocked its way through Gavin and he felt himself exhale hard and slow, a rare thing for him since he usually stopped himself from making noise unless talking was absolutely required. He took as long as he could to avoid and dodge the question, looking at anything but Geoff. They were sat in the main room of the office, the room where about ten desks were pushed against each other back to back, short dividers in between them so the people could look over at each other without much problem. The company was small—about ten people now, and close-knit, so privacy wasn't much of an issue, especially considering the fact that everyone in the company was hired because of interest and involvement in internet videos. Which provided a strange but very interesting group of people.

They were both crowded at Geoff's desk, Gavin having had nicked a chair from Gus's desk and brought it over to watch Geoff. Not many people remained, most having gone home or were off travelling for conventions and meetings with various companies. Burnie was in his personal office. Griffon was on a conference call with new potential hires. He and Geoff were alone in the main room for once.

Gavin shook his head, clearly lying. He didn't know what to say or how to say it. He didn't even know what he was feeling. How was he supposed to tell Geoff anything when he couldn't even sort it out himself? He didn't think it was worth trying, really.

Geoff had lots of pictures on his desk and taped onto the measly little board that separated his and Gus's desk. The most noticeable one was the framed one by his main monitor screen, a photo from earlier this year in the summer after they'd moved to Austin. They'd taken a photo of everyone in empty open living room. Geoff, Griffon, Gavin, and Dan. They were all grinning in the emptiness of the house and Gavin could remember the excitement of moving into a new place and the overwhelming child-like joy he got at the prospect of taking family photos. Now everything just felt complicated.

There were more recent photos, too, the ones from when Gavin and Dan had been setting up to film a slow-motion video from about a week ago already taped up and blending in with the other photos. They were candid, with neither Dan or Gavin noticing that they were being taken. They were both smiling in all the photos, many of them looking like they were in the middle of laughing at each other, which, as he remembered, was probably exactly what had been happening. Dan's happiness looked genuine in all of them and yet, he still felt guilt tearing at him.

He wasn't someone who felt guilt easily. It took a lot, lots of thinking and reasoning and compromising. It took him realizing that something he'd done was really, really shitty and he shouldn't be doing it at all. That was exactly what he felt now. He felt like he'd forced Dan into all this, like he didn't really want to actually be here. And that—it honestly hurt. Because he _liked_ Dan being here. He liked it a lot and he liked what they had. He couldn't imagine a future without him. And to realize that maybe, just maybe, Dan didn't want to do any of this, that maybe he didn't even want to be his translator, took all of those feelings and made them completely one-sided. Just the thought of that hurt. A lot.

There'd been times that should've hurt more than this, but this seemed to outweigh all of them now. This wasn't about Dan not wanting to take up Burnie's offer with him. This was about a lot more. This was about the fact that Dan was his best friend and someone Gavin couldn't stand to lose and that a future without him just didn't seem possible. This was about the fact that he felt more selfish than he ever had before because of this. This was about a lot of things.

"It's not nothing."

He knew Geoff would see right through him. He always did.

"Dan," He answered simply.

"Is this about the whole him not wanting to do what Burnie offered?"

Oh goddammit. Burnie must've told him. Another sigh from Gavin, an indirect confirmation. Geoff nodded slowly, and without missing a beat, "Then you should talk to him about it."

Gavin knew he'd have to.

-

Dan arrived right on time, and Gavin was waiting for him in the dreary and mostly empty parking lot. It was almost November and the days had quickly begun to grow darker, with night falling before five in the evening, leaving the air pitch black by now. The city buzzed around him, the street by the business complex busy and congested all the time, with the lights of cars constantly flashing by and activity all around. It was a familiar scene, one that Gavin had seen for the past few months since living here, and now the activity provided him with a sort of comfort to cause his nerves, the surrounding city swallowing him in the constant crowds and countless people.

That comfort was over and gone the exact moment Dan pulled into the parking lot. He couldn't avoid this. Geoff had made sure of that, telling him he had to stay late to finish up renders on something, both of them knowing that he was doing it just so that Gavin would have to go home with Dan. He didn't drive, so that was out of the question. If he had just gotten his license he wouldn't have to deal with this, but he'd always been fine with Dan driving, never having the actual desire to drive himself. From the way things were looking, it seemed like he might have to learn.

Walking to the car was the most stressful thing he'd ever done. He finally left the comfort of watching the activity around him, stepping off the stairs leading up to the business apartments and offices, each step down the pavement feeling more stressful than the last. The ground beneath him shook just slightly from the cars racing by on the street, red and white lights bursting into his vision, reminding him again and again that he had nothing to say, no plans on how to talk to Dan, and that he was leaving the comfort of being in a crowd, of being just another person on the street.

He made it as quickly as he could without rushing it, finally feeling relief wash over him as he pulled the door to the passenger's side shut. Relief was almost immediately replaced with more anxiety as he waited, waiting for Dan to pull out of the lot, waiting for him to say something, waiting for _anything_. And he got nothing. Dan wouldn't even look at him, clutching the steering wheel so hard his knuckles turned white, staring down, his entire body tense. He was in the exact same place Gavin was, both of them waiting for the other to say something, an unfamiliar wall between them.

"Dan."

He said it aloud, the name familiar on his lips. If Dan wasn't going to speak, then Gavin would. Finally, Dan turned to look at him, and he could tell immediately that Dan thought Gavin was angry over his decision.

He might've been at first. But not now. Anger was the last thing he felt. He tapped his fingers on the console of the car, trying to think of what to say. He had to say something. Anything. He owed him an apology. Not just for getting upset, but for everything. If Dan didn't actually want to be here, then Gavin wouldn't force him. He couldn't bring himself to tell him he could leave if he wanted to, though. He didn't want that. He didn't want Dan to leave him.

"I—I'm sorry," Each sign felt unfamiliar and wonky as he tried to work out what to say. He wanted to ask, to see if his suspicions were right and for once, he was praying that they weren't, but he couldn't find the words, his hands refusing to form them, his throat refusing to speak them, and his mind refusing to think them.

Dan shook his head, "No. I'm sorry. I should've told you."

"Just tell me. Now."

He didn't request it. He didn't ask nicely for it. He demanded it. He wanted to know now. There was no doubt about it—if Dan told him that he wanted to have a normal life, Gavin wouldn't be able to handle it, but he wanted to know. He wasn't going to live in denial of it, beating around the bush and putting off just _asking_ him. He wanted Dan to just tell him everything now.

Hesitation. Gavin held his breath. There wasn't any more time to go back. With each passing second, what Gavin had first considered just a small possibility seemed more and more likely with each passing moment, starting with the second the shock had subsided and he realized he'd been imagining a future with him without ever really asking what he wanted and only growing from there. Everything seemed to point in that direction and in that hesitation, Gavin remembered yet another thing that pointed him straight there.

Michael had overheard Dan talking about going back to England. It was a weird time for him to be going, in the middle of the school year with no holidays around, so short of notice, and for an entire week. There was no explanation behind it. Other, than, of course, the only thing Gavin could come up with: he wanted to see his family again. He was homesick. He wanted to try to pretend like he had a normal life and wasn't dragged around by a mischievous deaf kid and said kid's adopted family.

"B. I'm sorry. Look, I—" He didn't want to listen and yet, Gavin sat still, taking in Dan's every word, each and every movement of his hands, trying to mentally prepare himself for whatever he was going to say. "I never—I never said I didn't want to work at the company with you. That wasn't what I said and you know it. I'm not a good actor, but you are. I can learn to edit or whatever. You can show me or something. But I like just being your translator. I'm fine with that. That's what I'm good at and that's what I like doing. That's all. It's not what you're thinking and I should've talked to you first and bloody _hell_ I'm sorry. Just don't think that you're going into this alone. I'm still going to be with you and working with you. I'm just not going to be doing what Burnie offered."

He got it. He understood. It wasn't what he'd thought and he nodded, understanding what he was saying, but it still left a bad feeling lingering inside him, the feeling that Dan didn't want to be here, that he was just taking pity on him by staying by his side and where that would usually cause nothing but anger from him, all Gavin felt was guilt and hurt.

-

It was another week before anything happened with Michael.

Seven days, bringing him to the first of November. By then, he was distracted constantly, often zoning out in class, his eyes still focused on Dan and what he was signing, but his mind not comprehending it at all. Wednesday was the first time he was forced to pick up a book and study at home, and it was all due to the fact that he was constantly zoning out, unable to focus at school. He tried to keep things up normally and Dan didn't seem to notice anything off with him, which wasn't because of his obliviousness but more due to the fact that Gavin still genuinely enjoyed his conversations with him and didn't act any more oddly around him. The only thing he noticed was Gavin's lack of concentration, which he just brushed off with a simple explanation of lack of sleep. Which wasn't completely untrue.

It was Friday when he got a text from Michael, the first in over two weeks. Friday, November first in sixth period during the last five minutes of class. It was something he'd never expected, having thought Michael would rely on him to make the first move towards meeting with him, rather than Michael doing it himself. Needless to say, it was surprising. And not what Gavin wanted.

> Michael 1:23 PM: hey ill meet you by your locker after school today
> 
> Gavin 1:23 PM: dont want to
> 
> Michael 1:24 PM: im trying to make an apology here just talk to me and ill explain everything

Gavin didn't respond, quickly putting his phone away. He didn't want to see Michael. After two weeks, everything he'd said to him was still fresh in his mind, still circling around in his head. He'd told Michael a lot of things. He'd yelled a lot of things at him. Just because he'd said them out of anger and frustration at Michael and what he'd done didn't mean they weren't sincere and unfortunately, every one of them was true. He both hated and cared about Michael. After jumping in the middle of a fight to prevent Michael from doing something stupid, there was no way he could deny that. He also hated him, hating the way he hadn't talked to Gavin when he'd offered, hating how he expressed himself through anger and violence, and hating the attitude he usually carried himself with.

He wasn't ready to see Michael again. He wasn't ready to make amends. He didn't particularly want to. After over two weeks, he'd still had no intentions of making up with him. He had to now, though, since Michael had come right out and approached _him_ about it, not the other way around. That left him with no choice. Not meeting him would be a shitty thing to do and make _him_ the shitty person. Michael had also preyed on his need of stimulation, promising an 'explanation', something that had immediately and unwillingly sparked Gavin's curiosity. So now he had to do it. As much as he didn't want to, he didn't have much of a choice.

> _You'll be happy to know I'm going to make up with Michael today._

He slid the paper over to Dan, nudging him to get his attention. This particular teacher seemed to not like Gavin much, often getting angry at him for 'talking in class' when he was having a signed conversation with Dan, which forced him to write notes to him to talk to him properly. Dan read it over, looking up from his assignment, wrote back, and slid the paper back to Gavin.

> _You're right. I am happy to know that. Text me when you want me to pick you up. I'll hang around the school for a while._

Gavin nodded, getting back to work, nearly jumping when Dan tapped him on the shoulder and pointed to what he'd added.

> _You alright? You're sort of distracted lately._

Gavin didn't write back. He just nodded, still not able to bring himself to ask any of the things he really wanted to know.

\--

And so, he waited.

He waited exactly where Michael told him to, leaning on his locker and watching as the hallway emptied out. No one approached him or tried to talk to him, a few of them hesitating and deciding against it as they saw Gavin was alone. Dan was wherever, either gone home or lingering around the school somewhere. The hallways emptied quickly, no one wanting to stay after school on a Friday, everyone rushing to get home. Gavin wanted to go home, too, each minute spent waiting for Michael also making his want to go home and dive into whatever he had to do increase.

If there was one thing Gavin hated, it was waiting. Waiting was nothing. It was boring, forcing him to sit and wait on someone to meet him, giving him nothing to do but people watch in the meantime. While he usually didn't mind people watching, he didn't like being forced to do it, especially when he was waiting in anticipation for someone to arrive. So he didn't people watch, simply scanning the hallways over and over again, looking for a head of curly russet hair among the few remaining people, giving pointed glances down at his watch every few seconds. It was quickly becoming clearer and clearer that there was nothing he hated more than waiting. Or, at least, nothing he could think of offhand.

He just wanted to be home. He didn't want to be stood here alone, waiting for someone who was supposed to arrive at least five minutes ago, all while Dan was off doing whatever. He didn't like being without him by his side, making him feel too open and the least bit vulnerable. Above all, he just didn't want to talk to Michael. But he was here waiting for him, stuck after school in a sparsely populated hallway, waiting for the person he'd like to talk to the very least.

For a moment, it crossed his mind to text Michael. After all, he hadn't responded to his last message. Michael didn't even know whether or not he was coming. Which might explain why he wasn't here yet. He supposed it was reasonable to think that Gavin wouldn't show, since he hadn't wanted to hear apologies in the first place. But Gavin had a lot more pride than that, probably unbeknownst to Michael. He wasn't about to not come when Michael had specifically asked him to meet him. There was no way of telling whether or not Michael knew that, though. There was a good chance he'd just given up and hadn't even checked to see if Gavin was waiting or not.

Ten more minutes, he decided. He'd give Michael ten more minutes. If he wasn't here by then, Gavin would text Dan and just go home. At this point, he almost hoped that would happen. That way he'd be able to avoid this talk all together and maybe even convince Dan that trying to make up with Michael Jones was a lost cause. The latter seemed less likely, though still worth a good shot. Now he just had ten minutes to kill and then he could—

There was a harsh pull at his sleeve, yanking his arm back, making him jump and leap back. It was a bad reflex on his part, since jumping up and backwards sent him effectively crashing into the person standing behind him, the person who'd pulled at him to get his attention in the first place. He jumped back into them at full force, his knees immediately buckling under him as he hit them, losing his balance and falling against them as they struggled to stand their ground. Somehow, they managed to stay upright, even as Gavin fell back into them, nearly taking them with him.

Whoever it was reacted quickly as Gavin flailed, trying desperately to right himself, prevent himself from falling down, and get away from whoever he'd crashed into all at once. It was an uphill battle and they reacted quicker than he did, catching him under the arms with a strong grip. They successfully managed to hold him up, Gavin taking in a breath of delayed shock at the fast and hectic moment.

It took a moment to process what'd just happened. Someone had pulled at his sleeve to get his attention. He'd been an idiot and had jumped about an entire foot back, sending himself crashing straight into them and then they'd caught him with their hands under his arms so he wouldn't fall. From their hold, he could tell it was neither Dan nor Michael. Finally catching his breath, he managed to lean his head back and look at whoever was supporting him, seeing someone he'd never seen before.

Oh shit. Girl. A girl who stared down at him with a wide grin on her face, a cute nose flaring with laughter, straight bangs that went down her forehead, and dark red shoulder-length hair. She pushed him onto his feet, helping him stand upright and he stared at her, even more confused and embarrassed than he had been in the first place. He'd just pretty much fallen on her in the middle of the hallway. He was glad not many people had been around to see that, and even happier that Michael was still nowhere to be found. However, there was still this girl he'd never seen before to deal with. And, judging from the way she'd pulled at him to get his attention, she really wanted to talk to him.

He offered a sheepish grin and shrugged. An apology of sorts. She was a bit shorter than him, about Michael's height, but she was definitely a senior, which really just made it stranger that Gavin had never seen her before, as well as odder that she'd want to talk to him. He might've seen her in the halls a couple times but hadn't really noticed her. On top of all that, he doubted, since he'd never seen her before, that she knew he was deaf. That left him without a way to talk to her, since Dan was off somewhere and Michael, who _probably_ knew enough sign language to do the basics, was either on his way or gone home. Left without a way to talk to her or even communicate that he was deaf without speaking, he just smiled and shrugged as an apology.

She returned the grin and obviously waited for him to say something, an awkward feeling spreading out between them in the single beat neither one of them spoke, and then she filled it herself, speaking as Gavin leaned in slightly to catch her words, "I'm Lindsay. Lindsay Tuggey. I'm guessing Michael hasn't said anything about me."

Now _that_ was interesting, catching Gavin's attention immediately. Michael. Michael Jones. The very same he was currently waiting for. He'd seen her name a couple times before, sure, but none of them from Michael's mouth. He'd read her name in the announcements a couple times and recognized it as one of the people in the acting trope that was competing in a national competition, but that had been it. Michael had never spoken a word about her and Gavin had never seen her around the neighborhood before. From the look on her face, though, he knew she knew Michael and wasn't just name-dropping. He almost didn't catch it, almost overlooking the split second downcast look she got, the way she had to drop his gaze for a second and how her the corners of her smile twitched, betraying something besides happiness.

He continued to grin blankly at her, fully aware he looked like a bloody goddamn idiot. Her gaze soon turned into a questioning look accompanied by an awkward smile, at which point Gavin had to stoop down and pull a notebook and pen from his bag, flipping open to the nearest empty page, scribbling down _I'm deaf._ on it and quickly standing to show it to her. She looked down, reading it, and then back up at him, and what he saw surprised him. There was no pity or feelings of awkwardness left, just a slight look of realization that quickly faded.

Instead she just smirked, leaned in closer and said, "Hi, Deaf. I'm Lindsay." And then promptly burst out laughing at her bad joke.

Oh god. He scribbled _I'm serious!_ and showed it to her, narrowing his eyes as he returned her gaze.

"Serious? I thought your name was deaf."

And Gavin had to try really hard to fight off the smile that threatened to break across his face. He liked her already. He forced himself not to laugh, shaking his head in a fake-disappointed way, the smile pushing its way back on his lips. She laughed hard, too, covering her mouth, the corners of her grin showing through her fingers.

> _I'm Gavin Free._

He showed it to her once she finally stopped laughing and she enthusiastically thrust out a hand for him to shake, "At last! A normal name! Hi, Gavin. I'm Lindsay, the one and only. Except not really, since there's a million other Lindsays in this school. So you must be the deaf kid everyone's got their panties in a bunch about. Oh well. You seem pretty cool, at least in my book, and hey, seems like you can understand me so who cares!"

He _definitely_ liked her.

She was still a mystery, having cleared up only who she was, not why she was here or how she knew Michael or any of that. But just from this conversation, he liked her. Really, he liked anyone who didn't immediately label him as deaf and talked to him like a normal person. Once he'd gotten past the whole language (or more—lack of speaking) barrier with her, all the awkwardness and strangeness of the situation disappeared and she immediately seemed to go with how she normally acted. Not that he knew her outside of this conversation, but Gavin had spent enough time people watching that by now he could just sort of tell. She treated him normally, not pitying him, disliking him, or giving him any sort of special 'help' in the conversation. Most people would speak slowly or yell (which made no sense, being as he couldn't hear them anyways) or would avoid speaking in long sentences to him. She did none of that, launching full speed into her introduction.

> _Well then, Lindsay, fancy_ _running into_ _you here._

He double underlined 'running into' meaning it as a joke since he'd pretty much literally done that. She laughed again, eyes bright and smile wide, and once she was done, her expression turned more serious.

"I was actually looking for you. Someone told me just to look for the skinny as hell kid with the weird British haircut."

 _That would be me,_ he wrote. Whoever had described him to her had probably had to stumble over the word 'deaf' when looking for a way to describe him. It was always amusing to see how other people described him, especially when they were so new to him as a whole and still getting over the whole 'deaf but not really different' thing. 'Weird British haircut' was a new one.

"I thought so! I saw you and thought 'who on earth let that boy out of the house with his hair sticking up like that'?! And then I realized it must be you," Her face dropped again, and she returned to being more serious. "You're waiting for someone. Michael?"

He nodded. He didn't know how she knew, but she did. Or, at least, she knew something and she knew Michael, though from the seriousness that had settled across her face, he could pretty obviously see that it wasn't a good relationship. Probably not necessarily bad, either, since Lindsay was here talking to him, someone she knew was associated with him, even if he didn't want to be. They weren't friends. That much was clear. The only person Michael seemed to hang out with that the short gamer kid everyone seemed to love. Ray, or whatever. He'd never seen this girl before, and judging from all the evidence laid out in front of him, he could make the conclusion that she wasn't Michael's friend, though they had history together.

 _You're not friends with Michael._ He wrote it down, circled it, and showed it to her. She stared at it for a long time and he watched as a sigh wracked through her body, seeming to rattle her very structure. Then she nodded, hesitated, and spoke again, all of the energy and joy gone from her, replaced with a dullness to her eyes and a dejected look Gavin found unfitting for her, "Yeah. You're right. I mean—it's a long story and you're waiting for him. I just came to—"

 _I've got time._ Written in big letters and underlined. He didn't look up to see her reaction, instead typing out a text to Michael, finally doing what he should've done ten minutes ago. He was going to force himself to do this, not because he wanted to, but because Lindsay was here to talk about Michael and because Dan wanted him to make up with him and really, he owed that much to Dan for constantly being a childish troublemaker. He considered, for a moment, sending a text to check in on Dan, and then quickly scrapped that. He wanted to talk to him. He wanted to talk to him a lot. He wanted to go home and do something with him. And he wanted to ask him about what had been occupying his mind every second of every day for the past week. But he wouldn't. Not today. First he had to make things right with Michael.

> Gavin 2:37 PM: meet you at three by your locker
> 
> Gavin 2:37 PM: be ready or ill leave as soon as i get there
> 
> Michael 2:37 PM: sorry i got held up by a teacher. ill be there i swear.
> 
> Michael 2:38 PM: on second thought, meet me outside on the football field. ill be in the bleachers.

He glanced back up at Lindsay, satisfied with the arrangements. He'd talk to her and then meet Michael and by the end of the day, everything would be just fine. She gave him a short nod, sitting down against the lockers on the tile floor of the hallway and beckoned Gavin to do the same, patting the floor beside her. He did so, dragging his bag with him, garnering a couple short-lived stares from the few remaining. He kept his eyes on her, holding the pen and notebook in his hands in case he needed to quickly write something, and waited for her to talk. He gave her time, letting her lean her head back on the lockers as another sigh shook her, her shoulders tense and her posture straight, giving off waves of stress.

He was suddenly struck with a feeling of guilt not unlike what he'd been feeling with Dan the past week. Whatever Lindsay's story with Michael was, it wasn't something she liked recalling, as Gavin had quickly guessed. Usually, he was pleased when his assumptions were proved right. Not now, though. Before this week, guilt had been unfamiliar to him and reserved for special occasions when he'd really screwed up. By today, it felt more common than anything else he was feeling. Maybe he was just vulnerable to it. Or maybe his bluntness and persistence was really what people called it—annoying and shitty.

He'd already pushed Lindsay into this, so he gave her time, waiting until she was ready and not hurrying her along. After all, everyone had that one thing they had a hard time talking about. He could make a good guess that this was hers.

"Gavin," He was surprised that the first thing out of her mouth was his name, though he didn't say anything. She looked at the floor, and then turned towards him, the stress gone from her face, a more relaxed look taking over her features. "I've known Michael since we were six. I lived in the neighborhood. We hit it off immediately since I was the only kid bold enough to go up to loud, angry Michael who didn't like to talk to anyone. We were pretty fast friends."

Well that wasn't something he'd expected. Childhood friends. And he'd never seen Michael say a single word about her. He'd never seen her around either, but an obvious conclusion could be drawn from that—she didn't live in the neighborhood anymore. It also explained the dejected look and why it was difficult for her to tell him. They'd known each other for over ten years, something had happened, and now they weren't friends anymore. A sad story, but by now, she'd piqued Gavin's interest and made him wonder how they'd gotten from point A to point B.

 _What happened?_ He wrote down, drawing her attention as he did so. She smiled and he saw the lack of genuine happiness in it.

"We dated. Freshmen year to the beginning of sophomore year," More shock. Michael had come out to him. It didn't add up in the least. That was why he fought with his mother all the time, wasn't it? He let her continue, though she must've seen his eyes grow wide, "That surprising? Man, Michael doesn't share anything anymore. I know. Not his type, right? Obviously too much chest and too little…dangly bits. Not that that's really what makes a guy a guy, but you know, I haven't quite got the mental part, either. Unfortunately, I'm all girl, inside and out."

None of this was adding up. It wasn't making sense. The missing parts kept on taking wild turns that threw Gavin for loop after loop.

"Don't look so shocked!" She fake pouted, nearly garnering an involuntary smile from Gavin. "So. We dated. It was nice. Nothing was bad about it. Michael's angry and annoyed like ninety percent of the time he's in school, as I'm sure you know, but at home he's never anything but nice and pretty funny, too. He was—is, sorry—a really great guy, but we honestly worked better as just friends and that started to become really obvious there towards the end. I knew it was coming, but I could never see… exactly _what_ was coming."

Lindsay paused, gathering herself and Gavin glanced at the time. Five minutes. He still had time. He nodded towards Lindsay, signaling her to continue, intrigued in her explanation and desperately wanting her to piece it all together—the how it happened and connect it with the why she was here, "He told me we needed to talk one day. I'd seen it coming and honestly, I wasn't angry or really sad about it. We just didn't work as a couple, you know? I was really happy with just going back to being good friends. We'd always been the inseparable best friend pair and shit. Every school has one. At least in America, and judging from that hairstyle, you are _not_ from here.

"Anyways. He came out to me. I was the first person who knew. We were alone in Michael's backyard. My parents had just moved about five minutes closer to the high school and he just sort of blurt it out. I wasn't really prepared for _that_ , but who could be?"

There was no guilt on her face, none of it clouding her eyes or settling into her expression. The obvious route of freaking out on Michael because she wasn't prepared for it wasn't what happened. If she had, there'd be guilt, since she'd clearly had a lot of time to think about it and mull what had happened over. If she had done that and it had broken off a ten year long friendship, she would be feeling immense guilt and it would _show_. No, it had been something else, and there was nothing Gavin could observe that could tell him what it was before he watched it come from her own lips.

She looked away again, back at the floor, then the wall, and back at him, holding his gaze for a long moment, "It's not what you're thinking. My parents raised me to be open-minded. It didn't work out between Michael and I and he was giving me a legitimate reason for why it hadn't worked out. There was no reason to get angry and I wasn't. Just surprised. I told him that it was alright and that I was here for him and that things would be like they were before we started dating, no problem. And then he got mad. He got mad in a way I've only seen him get in school. I'm sure you know what I'm talking about—the red face, the clenched fists, the screaming. Well, I guess you _wouldn't_ know about that last one but hey, minor slip up. Do forgive me.

"He was really angry, and none of it was directed at me. He told me that it shouldn't be alright. He told me to yell at him. He was mad that I _wasn't_ mad. He was angry about the fact that I was supportive of him. You have to understand—Michael didn't _want_ to be gay. He wanted to be normal because everyone else demanded him to be and he wanted me to talk some sense into him because he thought I was the only person who could and trusted me to do it. He yelled and yelled and I argued with him about it and at the end he just—stopped. Like he'd realized what he'd done and that he was yelling at me. He stopped, broke down, and told me he was sorry he'd upset me and hurt me by yelling at me. And then he left. Keep in mind we were at his house. He hasn't talked to me since then."

It made sense now. All the pieces were in place, all of them fitting together properly. Lindsay had been the first person Michael had told and he'd wanted her to reject him, not validate him. Honestly—Gavin knew the frustration that accompanied that feeling. He'd felt the same way a lot when the Ramseys had first adopted him. It was frustrating and utter crap to want rejection and get the opposite. He could at least understand Michael, though he didn't react with the same volume of raw anger Michael had. That amount of anger had broken off a ten year long childhood friendship between Michael and Lindsay, seemingly causing hurt on both ends. A relationship that ended in anger and hurt. It was interesting and honestly—it at least explained a couple things to him.

Michael's violence seemed to root itself in loneliness and underlying hurt. That was what Gavin was seeing, anyways. Two, almost three, weeks ago, he'd had a bad fight with his mother, a fight Gavin could only assume had involved his identity, since that was the reason Michael had given him for fighting with his mother so much. The next day, he'd fought (or, really, _attempted to_ ) in school, all of that pent up frustration at his mother coming out in a form of violence he could actually inflict on someone, since he couldn't do so on her. It was simple, really. Logical. Michael had shut out almost everyone. He'd cut connections with Lindsay after hurting her and breaking up with her. He'd presumably lost his family after coming out. He had about one friend Gavin saw him with, and that was the overly friendly Puerto Rican gamer.

He was lonely. Gavin didn't know if said Puerto Rican gamer knew about Michael's orientation, but he could only assume he didn't. That left Michael with no one to talk to about it. He couldn't talk to his family and he'd fought with the one person who'd accepted him. From the looks of it, Gavin was the only one who knew that he hadn't lashed out at.

Which actually just made him more frustrated with Michael. He'd offered to talk. He could've talked to him through text or gone over to his house. He would've _listened_. He'd given Michael someone to talk to, and Michael had just ignored him, opting instead to take everything out on some kid that provoked him the next day. He understood, sure, or at least to some extent, but he couldn't excuse it. Michael could've gotten himself thrown out of school for fighting.

He didn't know what to say, but a glance at Lindsay's face told him one thing—she didn't want pity. Now, _that_ was something he actually fully understood. He offered no words of comfort, no advice, because this was not his choice to step in and not his place to decide that she needed to do something about it. She was past it, judging from the way she'd just told him everything. Moved on. He respected that a lot. So instead he just wrote the question asking for the last piece of the puzzle, the final thing that would string everything all together.

> _Why are you telling me all this?_

She brightened immediately, the memories seeming to leave her, the weight of them looking as though it'd been lifted from her shoulders. She full-on grinned at him, a smile Gavin couldn't help but return, "You know, you're pretty famous in this school. Notorious, actually. There's a difference! I've heard you moved into the neighborhood, in that stupid house no one ever lived in for some dumb reason. Which means you know Michael. And you've probably talked to him because come on, nothing's more attention-grabbing than a disabled kid moving into a house no one lived in for the longest time. And god _damn_ is it true you punched him out?"

She didn't wait for an answer. Gavin hadn't been aware of that rumor, though he wasn't exactly displeased to hear it. Michael Jones getting his nose almost broken and his eye blackened by the deaf kid living across the streets from him. Now that was a story for the school newspaper. At least it seemed to have convinced Lindsay he was a normal person.

"Even if it's not, you're pretty damn amazing. And I mean, you jumped in front of one of his fights. Don't give me that look—even if I'm not Michael's friend anymore, he's still my friend and I try to keep myself updated with what my friends are up to, especially when they don't talk to me. Anyways, I heard you'd moved into the neighborhood and stopped a fight Michael was starting. I didn't know you were also the kid that punched him out but, you know, coincidences don't exist. So I figured you were friends with Michael. And like I said, I keep tabs on him so I know if he's alright or not and lately…"

A pause. Gavin waited. She sighed, eyes flicking away from him for a split second.

"Lately he's been acting weird. Down. Really, really down. And more angry, too. We both know what I'm asking here. Even if I've got it all wrong and you're not friends with him or whatever, please just make sure he's alright. He doesn't really have any friends and I'm just…worried."

He understood. He understood plain and clear. He agreed and left, feeling as though he was in a daze the entire time he walked down the hallway towards the outdoor field. It was a lot of information at once and in the moment of having a girl beg him to make sure Michael was alright, he'd made a promise he wasn't sure he could keep and now he was regretting that and just about everything else at the moment.

Everything was suddenly so complicated.

Dan and now Michael. Michael and now Dan. It was an endless cycle, and going back to being the same dolt he was at the beginning of summer, when he'd first moved here sounded honestly pretty top right now. He hated Michael. He absolutely and completely hated him, anger and frustration coursing through him every time he even so much as thought about him. But at the same time, he also _didn't_ hate Michael. After everything he'd said and the way he'd lost it, the way he'd done something horribly stupid and jumped in front of a fight Michael was starting, he was no longer able to deny that he cared about Michael. He'd said it, screaming it right in Michael's terrified looking face as he was sprawled out on the ground after Gavin had pushed him down. He hated him and yet, for some bloody reason, he cared about him. It was driving him absolutely _mad_.

And yet, he still found himself making his way across the field. The sky was cloudy, giving off a very grey light, promising a sunset within a couple hours, the wind nippy and blowing harshly at Gavin. A chill ran through him, and he could only half chalk it up to the slight chill as he spotted Michael, sitting in the middle section towards the top, small and still far away, but looking straight at Gavin and watching him cross the field and soon, climb the metal stairs to the bleachers, slowing down even more as he picked his way up to Michael, taking his time in doing so. He had nothing planned out, no speeches to say and no things to yell at him. He'd come for an explanation, and that was what he'd been promised.

Michael looked up at him when he approached his row, signing a quick greeting to him, his hands shaking as he did so. Gavin just frowned and took another stair up, crossing the row above Michael until he was right by him and only then did he cross his arms and wait for him to say something. Michael looked up at him, his brown eyes not quite meeting Gavin's, and Gavin refusing to drop his stare, knowing fully well he was intimidating like this. He noticed everything, taking in Michael's shakiness, the way he was just slightly trembling, looking him over for a split second and seeing his hands clench and unclench, his nerves working their way into his expression and motor ticks. He said nothing and neither did Gavin, both of them just standing in the bleachers, Gavin staring him down as wind nipped harshly at him, blowing hair into his eyes and making Michael hug his shirt to his body.

Finally, Michael uncrossed his arms, his hands shaking almost too much to understand as he signed out a simple apology, using short common words that he'd already learned, "I'm sorry I didn't talk to you. I should've. I didn't. I'm sorry."

"Why?" Gavin's immediate reply, the sign just waiting on his fingertips, the question that had been burning in him for almost three weeks. 'Why?'. It was the one thing he wanted to know, the one thing he couldn't figure out. Michael had promised an explanation. This was his prompt for one. A simple word, a question, a request for a reason.

Michael's hands twitched, his fingers curling into a fist as he was obviously left at a loss of proper signs. He'd learned a lot in the past few weeks, but not nearly enough to hold a full conversation in sign language. Which meant Gavin would also be forced to speak. He shook his head at Michael's apparent loss for words, forcing himself to find his voice, "Just bloody talk. You can barely form sentences in sign language. I'm here see whatever you've got to say, not to faff about with trying to figure out what you're botching up."

Relief flooded Michael's eyes and he quickly shrugged it off, going back to frowning, his shoulders tense and his mouth in a frustrated line, "I'm not sure half of those words were actually English, but whatever. I said I'm sorry."

"Yeah, I bloody got that already!" He had no idea if he was yelling or not. Michael flinched and Gavin fought for control, feeling like he was battling himself just to gain the upper hand here. Speaking was always an uphill battle and one that Gavin was meant to lose. Again, he found himself wishing Dan were here to translate for him. His words felt slurred and completely wrong on his lips, his reaction knee-jerk and uncontrolled, coming out feeling terrible and probably sounding the part, too.

"I don't—" Michael was getting worked up, too, leaning towards him, the beginnings of a scowl pressed into his face, his eyes narrowed at him. He cut himself off, standing back, letting his guard down again. His eyes flitted shut and Gavin watched him exhale slowly, all the anger seeming to leave him with his breath. Only then did he continue, "I'm sorry, alright? A lot of shit happened with my mother. I was upset. Really fucking upset. And when you texted me that, I thought you were completely fucking shitting me."

None of this was helping.

"You thought I was making fun of you," He said it simply. It was neither a question nor an accusation. A statement. A fact. An explanation. Michael had thought he wasn't being serious, that he was making a mockery of him. Seemed like a pretty crap reason for not talking to someone who offered to help, to be honest.

"Yeah, well. I didn't know that you actually fucking cared until you shoved me down in that hallway and screamed it at me," Michael shrugged, finally looking Gavin in the eyes. He appeared sincere enough, even if his explanation was crap. Nevertheless, it was still an explanation. Michael hadn't talked to him because he'd been too upset and thought that Gavin wasn't being serious in offering to help him. He hadn't known that Gavin Free actually had the capability to care about someone and be serious about helping someone. It wasn't the type of explanation he'd wanted, but Gavin didn't know what else he'd expected. It gave reason to Michael's behavior and supported Gavin's guess that his violence was rooted in the fact that he had no one to talk to and no way to properly take care of his anger. When someone had offered help, he'd just immediately passed it off as a joke and turned to venting his anger through other ways simply because he didn't know any better. It made a lot of sense.

Gavin said nothing and Michael let it sink in, giving him time. He was angry still, mad over the fact that Michael's own stupidity had caused this, that he'd been too much of an idiot to realize that Gavin's intentions hadn't been bad, but the anger at the situation itself was subsiding. He had an explanation, a reason, now. He knew _why_ and that helped calm a lot of the frustration at Michael. He could understand it. It was a stupid, crap reason, but he could understand it. Someone doing shitty something because they were too upset to think better of it wasn't uncommon, and it was a reaction Gavin saw a lot in people who seemed just innately angry, people like Michael. And at least Michael had realized he was wrong and was trying to make better of it.

However, some of his anger still remained and not quite all of it was directed at Michael. He was mad at himself, too. Nearly three weeks ago, he'd completely lost all of that self-control and awareness he prided himself over. That had both been caused by and resulted in him shoving Michael to the ground and yelling everything at him, not holding back anything as he screamed his furious inner thoughts at him, all sorts of a filter suddenly _gone_. He'd lost it and dropped his guard, telling Michael how much he hated him and how much he cared about him, all in the same breath, all without know _why_ he said those things or _why_ he cared about Michael, but knowing they were all the inherent truth. And he was angry he'd said those things, irritated that he'd let himself go like that and made himself vulnerable, letting every single emotion get to him for the first time in _years_.

"I'm sorry," Michael repeated again after giving it time to settle with Gavin. "I'm surrendering here, man. I'm sorry. I fucked up. And I'm sorry."

With the explanation of why Michael had done it left him with another question—why was he telling him this now? He'd had over two weeks to apologize. It was only now he was doing it. Why? There had to be a reason for it. Something had made him realize he'd messed things up and something had driven him to feeling guilt, and that something hadn't been Gavin himself because he hadn't said a single word to him or paid him any attention in nearly three weeks. Something else had caused it.

"You want something from me," It was a logical conclusion. Michael needed something from him, and the thought of talking to Gavin had made him rethink what had transpired during, before, and after the fight, and he'd come to the realization that he'd messed up badly.

Michael narrowed his eyes, anger flaring on his face for just a split second. Gavin knew for a fact that Michael hated his guts and, above all, hated how Gavin could push him into a corner. He could tell from the way Michael reacted whenever he did, from how he'd stomp out of the room or get nervous and thinly mask that nervousness with anger, leaving him open and vulnerable. He was preying on that right now, picking out exactly what Michael was doing and forcing it to the table, making it so big that it couldn't just be ignored or passed over. It was his own specialized way of getting straight to the bloody point whilst still retaining the upper hand.

The anger quickly faded and he watched Michael breathe in and out, leaving a moment of nothingness between them, a moment in which Gavin suddenly became much more aware of his surroundings. He was standing with Michael alone on the bleachers, the sky grey and making everything else grey, the wind cold and making goose bumps rise on Gavin's tanned skin. They were out here completely alone, the stands empty for once, the two of them seemingly the only living, breathing in the immediate vicinity. They were secluded from the rest of the world, isolated out here in the grey sunless outside, the two of them both charged with separate, yet very similar emotions.

"My mom's making me go to conversion therapy."

"What?!"

He didn't have to think. The word was immediate from his lips, his voice straining and feeling wrong. That was it. That brought everything together. That night Michael and his mother had fought and it'd resulted in this. That was more than enough to be angry at.

Michael nodded slowly, "And I need your help."

"Hold up," He was still trying to get a handle on this situation. Conversion therapy. That could be one of about twenty different things, all horrible and similar, but varying dramatically on the scale of horridness. "That's—Bloody hell."

It could mean anything from guilt-inducing therapy to painful electroshocks. There was a large in between, none of the 'treatments' any better than reportedly depression-inducing guilt therapy. Griffon was an advocate for the movement to outlaw the practice. He'd learned a thing or two from her about it.

"Yeah. I know," Michael sighed, crossing his arms again, shaking. Gavin was no longer sure whether or not it was from the cold. "Look, I need your help. I'm sorry about all the asshole stuff I did and that I thought you were just giving me shit with that text, but you're the only person who knows that'll help me. Or, at least, the only person who will potentially help me. Please. I need you to help me get out of this."

This was something he thought he'd never see with Michael. Desperation, clear and there, right on his face, every bit of anger and frustration gone. He wasn't asking for forgiveness. He was sorry—and genuinely so—but he wasn't demanding that Gavin forgive him. Honestly, that much was respectable. He was, however, desperate. He'd made it clear that he was the only person Michael could go to for help, both a first choice and a last resort. His only option. It also meant something else. It meant Michael was trying to amend things. He was doing the thing he hadn't done last time. He was reaching out, asking Gavin for help, giving himself another outlet, something that would actually help, instead of letting it fester and then taking it out with violence. It was an improvement and, judging from the nature of what was going on, the right thing for Michael to do.

He could've just as easily fought against his mother by himself to prevent it. He could've just kept it inside. But here he was, talking to Gavin and asking him for help.

"Gavin, _please_ ," Michael continued, apparently taking his silence as a bad sign. Gavin let him go on, not interrupting him as Michael finally got it all out. "I can't do this. I can't. I can't do it anymore. I'm asking for help here. You're the only person who can help me. I've fucked every other relationship up and I can't do this anymore and this shit s just going to make it worse. Please. This is the most goddamn pathetic thing I've ever done, but _please_ _help me_."

'Worried.'

Lindsay had mentioned that she'd been worried about Michael. She hadn't really gone into it, but she'd asked Gavin to keep an eye on him. She'd said all of it with the exact same expression he saw on Michael's face right now. She'd been absolutely desperate, desperately worried about Michael and desperate to make sure he was alright. Michael was even more so, his lips moving so fast that Gavin had a hard time quickly catching everything he was saying. He was desperate for help and had nowhere else to turn to.

"Calm down," He tried telling him and Michael immediately shut up. He sighed again, breathing slowly as Gavin watched each measured breath, trying to work out what to do as Michael calmed down, the panic eventually subsiding from him, letting him relax again. "Hey. I'll help you. I get it. It's fine, I'll help you. Just calm down. Panic isn't going to get either of us anywhere."

Michael nodded, understanding, "Yeah. Thanks. Sorry again."

For a moment, Gavin was left wondering where the hell that angry kid with insults and curses spewing every other word had gone. He shook the thought from his head, "I said it's fine. I'll help you. We'll figure out a way to get you out of it. It's a completely unethical practice, anyways. It's pretty easily an unlawful practice lawsuit. And bordering on child abuse, from the sounds of it."

"Unethical?"

For as smart as he was, Michael seemed to be pretty dim in situations involving a lot of emotions. "Unethical. Ever heard the phrase 'do no harm'?" The phrase was actually in Latin, but there wasn't a situation possible that Gavin would try that. He was already having troubles speaking, constantly worrying about stumbling over his words and always feeling like he wasn't getting the words right in the first place. "It's in the oath doctors take. They can't inflict any harm to you whatsoever unless it's proven to help you. Which that kind of therapy isn't."

Michael was finally following, nodding as Gavin spoke. It was a relief that he was at least understandable. The same look of relief seemed to flood Michael, as well, from the way his entire body relaxed and his face was no longer pressed into a stressed, panicked expression. "Thanks," And it was all he needed to say, all that needed to be said. A closing statement. He stooped to pick up his school bag and Gavin started stepping down the bleachers, pulling out his phone to text Dan to come pick him up.

A thought crossed his mind as soon as he looked at Dan's name in his contacts, the all-too-familiar guilt flooding his senses again. He nearly dropped his phone, spinning around to just barely catch Michael, pulling him back by grabbing a hold onto his back and very nearly causing him to loose balance by an unintentional too-hard yank.

"Wait!" He said as Michael turned and gave him an incredulous look, clearly not having had expected Gavin to want to continue the conversation. Good for him. It wasn't that conversation that he wanted to go back to. It was a different one. "Dan. I want to know something about Dan. Has he mentioned that trip anymore? Especially lately?"

Michael glanced around, as if to make sure they were alone, his eyes widening at the question. For a moment, Gavin honestly didn't think Michael was telling him, since he looked minorly irritated at the question when he glanced back at Gavin, his lips pursing slightly as he hesitated, and then spoke, his entire face screaming of uncertainty, "I don't think… Goddamn, we both know you're not going to give up unless I fucking tell you." That much was true. His persistence was annoying to other people but ultimately, helpful. "So, yeah. A couple times. The other day he stayed in the room with me while he took a phone call. He was talking to his dad or whatever. He mentioned going back for a week and that he was looking forward to it and shit. He also said something about the last week of November."

That was all he needed. Whatever trip it was, it was still on, it was still secretive, and it was still important. More than anything, it was still hidden, still being kept from him. And with Dan saying nothing about it and Gavin needing answers about Dan, looking into this trip would be the best place to start.

-

A week later, he decided to do it. Dan was asleep, having accidently fallen asleep studying while Gavin played a couple crap matches in Halo, leaving him with his only chance. Gavin wasn't the type of person who went through people's things, mostly on the basis that he just didn't really _care_ what people were up to, but this was different. He actually cared this time. He cared a whole damn lot. Which was why he was doing what he was doing. He needed answers and if Dan was going to pretend like nothing was going on, Gavin would find them for himself.

His laptop. Dan was fast asleep on the bed, the light on the bedside table still on, Dan's book still open beside him, resting on his laptop keyboard. He wasn't one to go through people's stuff, but this was much different. Different enough that he was actually going to do it, that he was actually going to go through Dan's computer and scour it for any information whatsoever on this trip. He shut off the game console, taking care to keep himself on full alert, never looking away from where Dan had fallen asleep. He had no way of being quiet, no way of knowing how much noise he was making, so the best thing he could do was just guess and try to be careful. So he did just that, tiptoeing over to the bed they both shared, carefully measuring even his breathing so he wouldn't wake him.

Dan looked like he'd tried to take a break from studying and had ended up falling asleep. It was almost laughable and, above amusing, interesting to see. He hardly ever actually _saw_ Dan sleep, since most of the time they were surrounded in darkness, leaving Gavin's perception of his surroundings to mostly touch. The only times he actually saw him like this was by accident, whenever Dan would grow too tired to keep his eyes open and would drift off as Gavin stayed up wide-awake doing whatever. It was an odd sight, making Gavin stop at the edge of the bed, watching as Dan breathed evenly, eyes shut and face expressionless and Gavin suddenly felt himself noticing _everything_ again, just as he had when he'd watched as Dan studied.

His observations felt like too much and he wanted to shut out the way he noticed his nostrils flaring just slightly whenever he took a breath and how his eyelids would occasionally clench shut more or his muscles twitch, a telltale sign he was dreaming. He shook himself from it, tiptoeing forward, fully intending on grabbing the laptop from the bed and making his way back to the couch or the mostly unused bed with it and doing what he'd set out to do. As soon as he reached across Dan, his arm brushing against his chest just slightly just enough that Gavin felt it, he immediately had to pull back, his skin heating up, the tingling he'd felt before again running from down the base of his head down into his fingertips.

Again, he glanced at Dan, and again, those emotions filled him, making him feel like he couldn't breathe, almost making him feel as though he was panicking without the panic itself. His heartbeat skyrocketed, skipping a few beats that had him nearly doubled over, actually _feeling_ at such an intensity he never had before. He made himself stand up again, leaning over to look at Dan's computer, barely able to breathe as he felt himself just inches from his best friend, asleep on the bed not far from him.

An email to his brother. Gavin read the first few lines of it. None of it mentioned the trip, every sentence filled with Gavin's own name and Dan constantly talking about Gavin and filming with him and whatever bad joke Gavin had told him recently. The tone of it, the excitement that Dan's every word seemed to emanate, almost made him think twice, almost making him believe that he wasn't being selfish, that Dan really did enjoy it here.

He'd had enough of it. He couldn't do this. He felt almost how he imagined Michael had just earlier today—desperate and panicky and needing assurance. He wasn't going to do this tonight. Another night, yes, but not tonight, not after all this and not after the solution, the one that seemed so obvious, was becoming clearer and clearer. Not quite a solution, but a reason, an explanation, a name for all this.

The laptop clicked close beneath his fingertips and without even considering looking through it, he took it off the bed, pulling a blanket off the end of the bed and unfolding it before throwing it on top of Dan. The light came next, and he was more than happy to shut it off for once, usually hating the dark, but now he didn't want to have to see anymore. He then pushed the window open, letting a gust of cool air into the room, and he glanced out to see the familiar light in Michael's window, signifying that he was still awake.

He didn't go to bed himself. It crossed his mind, but he didn't text Michael, even though he recognized that he wanted to talk to someone.

He didn't know how to talk to anyone about this. He didn't know where to begin. This was it, the final wall knocked down, joining everything else in the ruins that had fell down around him. At least one thing was fixed. Maybe a little haphazardly, but it was fixed.

He breathed out slowly, sitting down at his computer and staring blankly at the new posts on the site, not even bothering to pretend he was reading them. He wasn't even seeing the screen anymore. He was back just moment ago, back to the pressing feeling he felt, back to the sparks that had fired his skin, back to the warmth filling him as he'd dared to read the first few lines of Dan's email to his brother. It was right in front of him, begging to be seen, and Gavin had finally looked at it. He didn't know how he could've been so stupid, how he could've let this happen at all. He wanted to stop and get off the ride completely, not liking where it was headed. Change. It was headed straight for change.

—Because Gavin Free was in love with his best friend.

\---

"You need to tell him."

Another late-night table talk. November fifteenth. Ten days after Gavin had finally made up with Michael, throwing the three of them back into their usual after school routine. Dan's thoughts got further from tutoring and school and everything else important with each passing hour, though. It grew closer and closer every day and Dan felt like he was ticking each day off in his head with an equal mixture of both excitement and dread. The last day of November was their flight. Dan was leaving on the last day of fall, flying straight into the month commonly accepted as the start of winter. It seemed fitting, almost.

Right now, that equal part dread was getting the best of him. Because it was time. Keeping this from Gavin wasn't fair. None of this was fair, actually, and Dan knew that. He still wanted it to be as fair as possible and telling him would be a great place to start. But he was still dreading it. Even telling him wouldn't be completely fair. It wouldn't be the truth. It'd be filled with lies and deception and Dan honestly wasn't sure if he could lie to Gavin's face like that.

He had to do it, though. And it already wasn't going well.

He'd been completely bloody _distant_ for the last week. There was no other way to describe it. Their conversation felt awkward and stiff in a way it never had before and, most worryingly, Gavin's physical contact was at an all-time low. It felt weird, not having Gavin completely wrapped around him at night and not having him kick his goddamn feet into his lap every time they sat near each other. Weird, and he missed it. He hated the stiffness, hating the distance, wanting to feel what he'd felt that night at the game, when he'd put his arm around him and Gavin had rest his head on his shoulder, craving that physical closeness in a way he didn't like to think about. Nevertheless, telling him was only going to make things worse.

The most direct route would be best. Probably necessary, actually. Gavin liked direct and hated being strung along. He could at least grant him that much fairness.

"My uncle died the other day."

A second ago, he'd shut off Gavin's game and was now stood in front of the television, trying his hardest to actually look Gavin in the eye as he signed out every lie to him. Gavin didn't react to him lying about a family member dying, giving him no condolences or comfort. Just a raise of his eyebrow and a frown. That should've been his first clue.

"I have to go to his funeral. It's at the start of December. I'm sorry, Gav, but my parents are making me go. It's a week is all. Just a week. And it's not for a while. I don't want to, but—"

Gavin didn't cut him off. Not through sign language and verbally at least, but the way he was looking at him, the way he had sat back with his arms crossed, how he'd narrowed his eyes at him, offering no words of sympathy for his supposed dead uncle made him stop talking, cutting himself off in the middle of his sentence. That look Gavin was giving him made him feel like he could see straight through him, like he saw the lie as just that—a lie. He didn't know how or what he knew, but everything screamed that Gavin saw his transparency, even if his lie was believable and didn't have any problems.

He didn't know how much time passed. A long time. A long time of just Gavin staring him down, making him the most uncomfortable Dan had ever been, strangely intimidating for someone who just sat there with his arms crossed. After what seemed like forever, Gavin finally stood, shaking his head slightly, his expression unchanging, "That might've worked if I didn't know you've been planning this for almost a month already. Might've."

The shock hit Dan like an oncoming train and he didn't try to move out of the way, not even trying to stop Gavin as he left the room. There wasn't a point in trying to stop him. If Gavin had his heart set on something, he was going to do it and Dan, who was usually the only person who could really stop him, was the person he was trying to get away from right now. So he didn't try, letting Gavin walk right out the door, not trying to follow him, stop him, or go after him.

He felt—

He didn't actually know how he felt. He couldn't think of a word to describe it. Regret was there. Guilt was there. Anger at himself was there. A bunch of other emotions were there, too. And other things he didn't really know what to call. All he knew was that somehow, someway, Gavin at least knew when he'd started planning the trip and that it wasn't because a family member had died. He didn't know how he knew and he didn't know what he knew. He also knew that he should've told Gavin a long time ago, back when it had first all started. That realization was also immediate; keeping this all from him had been childish and treating him exactly how he hated to be treated. It was, to say the least, a shitty thing to do.

He also didn't know what to do. His first instinct was to go to Michael. Michael was someone Dan could consider a friend by now, through over a month of spending weekday afternoons tutoring him. But he didn't want to bother him and he didn't want to hear from anyone else's mouth that he should've just told Gavin, since he already knew that too well. So he didn't go there. He went outside, staring across the street at Michael's house, wondering again and again if it would be okay to go over there, to ring his doorbell and sit on his front steps with him and just spill everything that had happened and all of the things he'd hid from Gavin.

Instead, he just walked.

His distance could be added to the list of things unknown; he walked for more than an hour and didn't know how far he'd gone, turning randomly on streets and just barely remembering enough of his direction to get home. He passed the high school and several elementary schools, walking in the dead of a Friday night without any real sense of where he was going and completely without a destination. He just walked. And finally when he got tired of walking, he walked back, sore and exhausted and ready to throw himself down on his bed where he was sure he'd find Gavin asleep already, even though he had no idea what time it was and didn't care to look.

He wasn't ready to talk to Geoff or Griffon and as soon as he stepped onto the porch and dug for his key in his pocket, he knew there'd be questions and urgencies to talk to them, and he decided to ignore every single one of them and shrug it off with the excuse of being tired. He opened the front door, stepping into the light of the entry hallway, and slowly picked his way to the kitchen, seeing Geoff and Griffon both at the table, looking over paperwork and articles and laws and whatever else. Griffon gave him a wave and opened her mouth to say something, but Dan waved it off, simply saying, "Tired." And heading up the stairs.

The trek to the room seemed longer than his directionless walk had and he didn't bother to knock, prepared to be greeted with Gavin asleep and curled up in the bed. He pushed the door open, exhausted and finally numb and thoughtless due to the exhaustion, stopping dead in his tracks as soon as he stepped into the room.

Gavin was sitting on the couch, Dan's laptop in his lap. He knew it was coming before Gavin turned around and showed him the screen, the headline in big red print, carrying the logo of the small-town paper from the town they'd both grown up in. Gavin looked almost—bored. Dan knew that look on his face, though. He'd known Gavin for far too long to not to. It wasn't a look of boredom or disinterest, but rather, his eyes glaring and expression intentionally kept accusatory and furious. He was accusing Dan of lying, and his proof was right there on the screen, feeding into Gavin's anger, an anger very much justified and making Dan feel like a child caught red-handed.

> _Free Couple Released After Only 5 Years of 20 Year Sentence_

Gavin cocked his head to the side, his glare seeming to get ten times harsher as he signed out words that Dan wouldn't be able to get out of his mind for weeks to come.

"You want to tell me what the hell this is?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> More Dan next chapter I promise.


	8. Fall VI Part 1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> And then, they try to glue the pieces back together again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I want to apologize for another two parter chapter. After the next part will be the start of Winter and we'll be back to regular chapters! Thank you all for your continued readership. Feedback is always appreciated <3! Also, content warning for discussions of child abuse.

"You want to tell me what the hell this is?"

He couldn't breathe. He wasn't panicking. He was just shocked to the point that he couldn't breathe. Or maybe that _was_ what panicking was. Right now, he didn't have the slightest idea of the reasonings behind his reactions, his mind only focusing on one thing and one thing only— _Gavin knew._

Ideally, he was never supposed to find out. Dan and Geoff were supposed to go to England and stop it before it ever happened, before his parents could ever even get permission to leave the country. Gavin was supposed to always have thought that one of Dan's family members had died and, when it would have been time for Geoff to tell his reasoning, that Geoff was going to sort out some things with the adoption agency concerning Gavin's status since he was approaching adulthood. Things were supposed to be over and done with before he could even begin to _think_ that Dan had been lying. But he'd found out. He hadn't only found out, but he'd found out before anything could happen at all.

That wasn't even the worst part of it, though. The worst part of it was the way Gavin was looking at him. His eyes narrowed, his head tilted to the side slightly, an eyebrow quirked, expecting an answer, everything about him accusatory. Nothing in his expression betrayed sadness, none of it giving away desperation, none of it being any sort of reaction anyone would of expect the child of abusive parents would have upon finding out they were out of prison. It was all anger, all of it directed at Dan, all of it because Dan had lied to his face and had never told him even though he'd known for months. Anger and accusations, his breathing measured and his narrowed eyes ablaze with his fury.

Dan had nothing to say. The evidence was right there, the computer screen turned towards him. _Free Couple Released After Only 5 Years of 20 Year Sentence._ Gavin knew that he'd been planning this trip for over a month now. Dan had no idea how, but Gavin knew and he'd called him out on it just hours before, which had caused Gavin to leave the first time. Now Dan had nowhere left to run, no lies left to tell. He was caught red-handed, stuck in the middle of a rock and a hard place without anywhere to go. Gavin wouldn't believe any lies Dan could try to spin and it was unfair to try, anyways.

Dan was someone who valued fairness. He saw himself as a sort of peacekeeper, someone who tried to calm feuds and keep Gavin's semi-chaotic personality at bay. He was the perfect counterpart to Gavin, and he could easily guess that was part of the reason why they got along so well. He didn't particularly enjoy lying, nor was he very good at it. He would if he had to, though. But with Gavin it was a different story. Gavin himself was different, and he broke every one of Dan's unspoken rules. He usually would never lie to him. They had a trust between them, something they'd built up over years and years of being around each other, years and years of emotions and understanding, and Dan honestly felt like he'd just shattered that trust completely.

This was the first time he'd ever lied to him. This lie had started the day he'd overheard Geoff and Griffon. It'd started the second he _didn't_ tell Gavin about it. It'd grown the moment the idea of going back to England had sprouted in his head. It'd blossomed into a web of lies soon, all ending here, right in their own room, with Gavin giving him _that_ look, the computer screen seemingly mirroring his glare. In that moment, standing there, realizing all that he'd done, he wanted nothing more than to take it all back. This was his best friend, someone he'd been with for years, someone he couldn't imagine a future without—

—And Daniel Gruchy had once again fucked it all up.

"I'm so—so—" He was frozen, his voice breaking the icy silence of the room, small and shaking in a way he'd never heard before. He knew Gavin couldn't hear him, but it didn't stop the embarrassment from flooding him, nothing compared to the guilt he felt. "I'm so sorry, Gav."

"Don't."

A simple wave of his hand. Dan could feel himself completely shaking, his hands trembling too much to sign everything. He should've just told Gavin. He never should've kept it a secret. The moment he knew, he should've told him, not kept it a secret.

He'd just wanted to make up for it. For everything. He'd fucked up five years ago and he'd fucked up now. He'd just wanted to make things right, but his stupid goddamn selfishness had gotten in the way and he knew that he should've told Gavin in the first place. It was only fair. He deserved to know. And Dan hadn't told him. Gavin had had no way of knowing by accident, either, which was the only way Dan knew. He wasn't able to overhear anyone. In cases like these, he was left in the dark with the light out of reach until someone turned it on for him, and not letting him know something that was so closely and obviously connected to him was not fair in any circumstance.

In the end, he should've just told him. Gavin was seventeen years old and able to be independent—he would be able to take it. Even now, even when that headline was right there, the only anger in his was directed at Dan. Not at his parents. Dan. Dan, because he'd lied to him. He wasn't sad. He wasn't angry. He didn't look like he was actually feeling _anything_ towards the fact his parents had been released. He could read Gavin, easily, too, after years of practice. He was definitely handling that part of the situation well and, honestly, that was no surprise.

Dan had known he would take it well. His lack of emotion towards the headline wasn't outstanding in his case. He'd known this would be his reaction. So why—why had he lied to him? He was still asking himself the question, still wondering, still searching desperately for an answer as he tried to think of something, anything, to say to Gavin. The only conclusion he could come to was that he hadn't wanted Gavin to know at all. He hadn't wanted to tell him, to see his lack of reaction when being told that his parents were released. Because he knew that wasn't handling it well. He knew that wasn't handling it _at all_ , that Gavin's coping mechanism was to just not be bothered with it and shut himself off to it. He hadn't wanted to have to see Gavin coping with it at all.

"You _lied_ to me."

Dan could barely form the signs with his hands, "I lied to you."

"How long?" There was no hesitation, no skipped beats, nothing between Dan's confirmation and Gavin's reply. He didn't even have to say what he was asking. It was obvious. How long had the lie been going on?

Dan, however, did hesitate. He didn't want to say it. He didn't want Gavin to know. But lying more now would just make things worse and telling him more lies just made the situation even more unfair, "Over a month now."

There it was, the truth, lain out before them for everyone to see. He watched the corners of Gavin's mouth twitch, very nearly contorting into a frown, a reaction. He was disappointed. That much was clear. He hadn't wanted to see that Dan had been keeping up this lie for over a month. Gavin, Dan knew, was someone who watched and observed and made assumptions that usually turned out to be correct. From their earlier conversation, Dan had already gathered that he knew about the lie for around the month, which meant that Dan's answer would come as no surprise. The only explanation was that Gavin had wanted to be wrong.

"Tell me," And there _that_ was, the words Dan had feared this entire time. He couldn't do this.

He tried to control himself, forcing himself to measure his breathing and steady himself. He wasn't like Gavin—he didn't have that amount of self-control, that ability to completely shut his emotions out and see the logical side of everything. He couldn't do that. Whereas Gavin could be lacking in emotion, Dan was constantly full of it, whether it was that underlying guilt that always seemed to cycle back to him or other emotions that were always there, always pressing down on him every time he even so much as _looked_ at Gavin.

"Tell you what?" He was stalling time—anyone who had any sense could see that. Gavin just looked annoyed.

"Everything."

The other thing Dan had dreaded. He exhaled slowly, closing his eyes, forcing control on himself. Gavin wanted to know. He wanted to know everything. He wanted the truth in its raw, terrible form. If Dan told it to him, if he spilled everything from the truth about what was going on with his parents to how it connected with the trip, Gavin would just sit there, the same expression on his face, never showing the least bit of reaction towards anything. And that would be the hardest part—seeing him just watch, completely expressionless, completely lacking in any sort of emotion towards his parents because he was _shutting it all out_. He didn't want to see that. He'd never wanted Gavin to have to deal with any of this shit ever again.

He shook his head, looking at Gavin again, shaking harder as he looked straight into his eyes and replied, "I can't."

Nothing.

Most exchanges between them were silent in the literal sense. They weren't actually silent, though, with one of them always talking, filling up the silence with words without voices. This was silence. This was neither of them saying a thing, Gavin's shock at Dan's refusal filling the air, leaving Dan cringing and his ears ringing, desperately searching for anything to fill the shocked silence between them. It felt like _hours_ that the two of them stayed like that, Gavin's icy stare on him, Dan holding his breath without realizing.

Finally, "You can."

Dan let out that breath, slowly, measured. Calm. He had to keep calm. "I _won't_."

Gavin deserved the truth. He deserved to hear it. It concerned him and Dan had lied to him and now he was refusing to tell him the truth. He knew better than anyone that Gavin deserved the truth. That didn't mean he wanted to be the one to tell it to him, which he most definitely didn't. He wanted anything and everything but.

Gavin stood, the laptop falling onto the seat cushion he'd just stood up from. He shook his head, dropping Dan's gaze for just a moment, and then looking back up at him, only to sign, "I can't believe you." Before leaving again, this time taking off, darting straight into Dan and crashing into him, knocking him off his feet and the breath out of his lungs. He fell to the ground hard, sprawled out, and Gavin didn't spare even a single glance at him before running down the stairs and out of the house, slamming the door so hard it rattled the entire house.

\---

"Gavin!"

At first, Michael thought nothing of it, ignoring the yell and flipping his music back on in his headphones, going back to working out long math problems in a bit of an early homework session.

And then it happened again, this time louder, making him nearly cringe as he heard it over the beat of his music.

" _Gavin_!"

That didn't make any sense, and that fact dawned on him the moment Michael took his headphones off, turning a shocked gaze towards the open window of his room. Gavin was deaf. And that was Dan's voice. Calling out to him. Him, a deaf person. Dan was calling out to someone who couldn't even hear him calling. Which didn't make sense in the least, only making Michael more confused as he thought more about it.

It was two in the goddamn morning. What the hell were they doing out in the ass of the night anyways? Just when things started making sense and returning to their normal routine, they got all weird again. Or at least, that was how it usually seemed to go, and Michael had a shitty feeling that this was the start of something else he could easily consider to be weird, judging from the fact that something was obviously happening outside on the street. He couldn't just leave it alone, having noticed it. His curiosity had been piqued, the fact that Dan was loudly yelling out to Gavin filling him with a million questions.

He sighed, shutting his laptop and scooting his chair back away from the desk. For the first time in hours, he left his room, greeted with the silence and darkness of the rest of the house. It was no surprise. He'd already known his mother would be out, anyways. She was hardly ever home these days, which Michael was growing more and more grateful for. She wouldn't be home until morning or even later than that. It was the weekend, after all. That actually gave her an excuse to get away from him.

For once, he didn't feel any sort of loneliness upon seeing the empty house. The only thing left was relief that he didn't have to see her or be around her. That and the curiosity pertaining to what was going on outside.

Once again, he found himself out on the porch, just as he'd been that first summer day he'd seen Dan and Gavin, as well as the first time he'd ever interacted with them. The light streaming out of the now open doorway poured into the night, providing Michael with just enough lighting to see what was going on. The night was nearly pitch-black, the only other light coming from the flickering streetlamp and the few lights on in houses, particularly Gavin and Dan's house, which seemed to be strangely alive in the dead of night.

And in the barely lit darkness, Michael could just make out what was going on. Across the street from him, right there on the sidewalk in front of the house, were the two themselves, seemingly locked into some sort of fight. Dan had Gavin by the arm, Gavin's stance looking as though he was about to take off at any goddamn second. He looked just ready to _run for it_. He couldn't see their expressions, couldn't make out how either of them were feeling from this distance and the minimal lighting, the light from their house creating a backdrop that silhouetted them. He couldn't tell much more than the shapes he could see, but he could clearly make out the lack of sign language and could hear almost deafeningly the lack of spoken word between them.

Both of them were completely silent, Gavin looking as if he were trying to get away, Dan holding onto him by the arm. Michael had never seen them like this. Honestly, he'd never expected them to have arguments, which, he could assume, was probably what was going on now. They were just—a pair. They had something between them Michael could see. That something had bothered him a lot the first time he'd gone over to their house for tutoring, and he'd been unable to see how the two of them could live together and spend so much time together without completely clashing with each other. It'd just seemed completely and utterly _illogical_ to him. But that was Dan and Gavin. They had something obvious, something that anyone could see, some sort of a bond between them, a bond that had initially made Michael himself extremely uncomfortable.

So he'd never expected this.

With a relationship like theirs, it seemed wholly based on trust and understanding. He'd never even imagined they ever fought or argued like most other friendships occasionally did. They just seemed beyond that. So this was—more than a little bit worrying. And complicated. Very complicated. He had a good idea of what they could be quarreling over. Gavin had seemed interested in whatever Michael overheard Dan talking about over the phone and Dan seemed secretive about the whole thing. It didn't take a genius to put two and two together, and Michael could do the math easily. Someone had lied. Someone had found out. Michael could guess who was which, and that meant he'd had a part in it himself.

"Gavin, come on. Let's just—"

"Let go."

Michael stood still, not moving, not alerting either of them to his presence. Dan's voice was frantic and panicked, Gavin's emotionless and flat, just as it was most of the time. He should get involved. It could easily escalate. Gavin was ready to run and he should intervene and save him from doing something stupid like Gavin had with him a few weeks back, but he couldn't get himself to fucking move. He was stuck, watching the scene play out before him, knowing exactly what was going to happen next and doing nothing about it. He wanted to, wanting desperately to run across the street and jump between them, but he didn't have any idea how, not when this argument was Dan and Gavin's argument, not his. He had a part in it, but it wasn't his place to intervene, no matter how much he wanted to. It was the right thing to do and, at the exact same time, the wrong thing.

So he did nothing, and it was no surprise when Gavin shifted his entire weight back, tearing out of Dan's grasp, forcing him to let go of his arm. There was no hesitation, no pause, nothing, as Gavin ran, running away from Dan. He'd never seen anyone move that fast, and he'd never seen anyone react as quickly as Dan did, promptly taking off after him, yelling out his name again even though he wouldn't hear him.

"Dan, wait!"

His own voice was what shocked him, and he found himself finally moving, the pavement of the street cold beneath his feet as he ran across the street, not even giving a single thought into doing so. Stop Dan. He had to stop Dan. If he wasn't able to stop Gavin, then at least he was able to stop Dan and prevent the situation from escalating further.

A ways ahead of him, Dan halted underneath the flickering streetlight just as Michael jogged to the other side of the street. From here, he could see his wide eyes and the way he was shaking, Gavin now nowhere to be seen, most likely having had escaped into someone else's yard. He could also see Dan wasn't going anywhere, just as shocked to see Michael as Michael had been to see him and Gavin fighting on the street. But that didn't matter. What mattered was that he'd stopped him. He'd finally fucking done something right for once.

Slowly, Michael made his way towards him, the only noise in the neighborhood being his footfalls against the pavement and Dan's heavy breathing, which got louder and louder the closer he got. Everything else was dead silent, the absence of wind blowing or cicadas chirping deafening in the chill of the fall air. The walk seemed to take forever and the entire way there, Michael still found himself at a loss for what to say. He had no idea how to comfort Dan or if he even could. Was that why he'd stopped him? He didn't exactly know the reasoning for that, either. He'd intervened at the last second after Gavin had took off and Dan after him, stopping Dan and letting Gavin go, and even though he still had the notion that it was the right thing to do, he felt at a loss for the reasoning of why as he walked in the silence of the neighborhood.

So he said nothing, not trying to justify himself, not trying to explain himself. He stopped just under the flickering light, the on-and-off florescent white stinging his dark-adjusted eyes as he watched Dan, watching him as he struggled to catch his breath after putting everything into going after Gavin. His face was red, his skin wet with sweat, every muscle tense. Everything about him screamed that he was completely on-edge, ready to jump at any second, everything except his watery-looking eyes. Michael said nothing, doing nothing, waiting and wholly unsure of what, exactly, he was waiting for.

Again, he'd gotten himself wrapped up in things just when they'd calmed down again. For a while, everything had been perfectly normal and now—now, in the dead of fucking night, he'd witnessed a fight he knew wasn't his to be involved in and he'd thrown himself right in the goddamn middle, forcing himself somewhere he didn't belong and intervening between two people who probably didn't want his counsel in the first place. Now he was paying the consequences for playing the vigilante and trying to help. He stood here, in the cold of the fucking night, under a flickering streetlight, watching someone he could call a friend struggle to get it together as shakes wracked his body and his heavy breathing filled the air, and he still had nothing to say. Yeah, intervening really had been the good fucking choice. Dan could've caught Gavin by now, but Michael had stopped him and now Dan was here and Gavin had run off to some unknown place.

He'd fucked up. He hadn't done anything right. He'd fucked up. Plain and simple.

And then—it happened.

The light flickered. On again and then off again, threatening to go out completely, and Dan trying to catch his breath turned into shaky gasps of air, his trembling worsening under the white light, and Michael watched, watching him break apart, watching his seams come undone at the stitching. It was instantaneous. One moment he was fine, the held-together, mature kid Michael knew him to be, and the next, he became the complete opposite. He struggled to hold it in, his eyes growing more watery, the muscles in his neck and face tensing as he clearly fought to keep a straight face.

"I—" His voice broke, higher than Michael had ever heard it before, dragging the single syllable out. Michael waited as Dan took a few more choked breaths, swallowing hard as he tried to keep it together. "I fucked up—I fucked up so much—"

That was it. He couldn't get another word out, the next sound coming from him being a strangled butchered attempt at a word, leaving him unable to talk and choking on his words, the only thing wanting to come out being cries. Michael watched it all, watching as Dan tried desperately to prevent it and make it stop, just like Michael had done so many times before in times of mixed desperation, anger, and frustration. He knew how it felt—knew the feeling of fucking up so badly that it left him with no way to fix things and nothing else to do but feel frustrated and powerless and how those emotions were so intense that they bred anger and sadness and made him feel so out of control that in the end, all he could do was just sob. He knew exactly how it felt and as he watched Dan and saw him finally erupt into helpless tears and violent sobs that shook his entire being, he felt nothing but empathy and desire to calm him down, two emotions that were foreign to him.

So he still didn't speak, still not making a sound as he closed the distance between the two of them, reaching out to lay his hand on Dan's shoulder, frowning at the awkward feeling of the unnatural touch. It wasn't helping any so fuck comfort zones and fuck social acceptance of touches between males and fuck everything else because nothing else mattered right now and goddammit if fucking hugging it out or whatever would make Dan Gruchy feel better, then that was what he was going to fucking do.

And that was exactly what he did, stepping closer to him, locking his arms around Dan, pulling him in as he covered his face, mumbling some sort of apology Michael couldn't even understand. He let him, hunching over as Michael held him, his face against his shoulder. He could feel his every labored breath, his every tiny shake and his every large tremor and sob. He could feel the wetness against his shoulder and the way Dan was clawing against his back, his hands looking for some sort of purchase before settling on clutching Michael's shirt.

"I fucked up, I fucked up, I fucked up—" Every word was breathed out against his shoulder, every other one lost in a choked out cry. He repeated it over and over, his voice high and strained, emotional and so unlike his usual held-together self. All Michael could do was let him do it. He was fucking distraught and Michael had been in his place too many times to know that reasoning with someone like this or trying to calm them down would be useless, anyways. He needed to get it out now, and all Michael could do was let him.

He didn't know how long he was standing there, his arms around Dan, Dan hunched over and completely losing it as Michael held him, nor did he really care. The light above them flickered constantly, on and off, rinse and repeat. Dan repeated the same three words over and over, his bruising grip having moved to Michael's shoulders. Eventually, though, his erratic breathing slowed, his violent cries turning into soft stifled sobs, his voice returning to a more normal pitch as he spread out the mantra instead of saying it jumbled every few seconds. Michael did nothing through it all. Dan was calming himself down. There was nothing else Michael could do except not pull away and he was more than happy to stay like this.

Finally, there were no more gasping sobs and Dan just rest his forehead on Michael's shoulder, taking a last shaking breath, "Michael, I fucked up. I fucked up a lot."

The words finally came, after all this time, "I know."

Above them, the light went out for the last time, leaving the neighborhood in a state of silence and darkness, the night enveloping them as both their breathing filled Michael's ears as the only sound in the neighborhood.

-

"I need to find him."

They'd been standing in the darkness for hours, as far as Michael could tell, Dan still in Michael's arms, neither of them moving until Dan's phone buzzed, apparently pushing them both back to reality as he pulled away from him after what felt like forever.

"Where is he?" Michael asked, glancing behind Dan at where Gavin had run off and then behind Dan and Gavin's house, where the first signs of dawn were still completely absent. A quick glance at his watch told him it was only about three. They hadn't been out here as long as he'd thought.

"Don't know. Look," The only light anywhere close by was the white LCD light from Dan's phone, making Michael's eyes hurt as Dan shoved the phone towards him. He stared at the message for a few moments, his eyes adjusting to the light as he tried to make sense of the words.

> _Gav 3:11 AM: dont look for me_

Well, that was no surprise. Gavin had run off over an hour ago and hadn't come back. There was no doubt that he didn't want to be found. He'd looked angry and both he and Dan had been clearly upset and Gavin had wound up running away. He didn't want to be found, and Michael couldn't quite blame him. There'd been a lot of times he'd considered running away, too, but that had always been when he was emotionally charged and not able to think straight. Seemed like Gavin was the same way. Eventually, he'd come to his senses and come back home, but until then, there wasn't a way to find someone who didn't want to be found without interference from officials, especially with someone like Gavin who always seemed to be two steps ahead of the competition.

Michael just shrugged, "He'll come back. He was just mad." Sooner or later he'd realize that he was being stupid and had nowhere to go and come back. Michael was willing to bet that he'd be back before morning.

Dan shook his head, frowning at Michael's unsaid suggestion to do exactly what Gavin wanted, "I have to look for him. He's out there alone. Michael, come on. He's deaf. He wouldn't be able to hear if—"

"You're pulling the deaf card. Isn't that kind of a shitty thing to do?"

He surprised himself, blurting out the words and cutting Dan off. He hadn't—Wasn't that exactly what Gavin hated? Being treated differently because he was deaf? He'd never thought he'd hear anything like that from Dan's mouth. Gavin had completely called Michael out on it and despised him for it to the point that he'd made it his point to piss Michael off at every chance. Dan was—different, though. Dan was his translator, and, as he'd said, someone who'd been friends with him for a long time. He didn't think Dan still made the mistake of pitying him for his disability. Gavin wouldn't stay friends with someone who did, would he? Was that what that entire fight had been about?

Dan looked about as shocked as Michael was, stopping talking completely, his eyes wide and mouth slightly open as if he were about to say something. Again, he shook his head, dropping Michael's gaze, "I—Oh god. Yeah. It is. I can't believe I—I didn't mean that, okay? Shit. I'm messing everything up. I'm just—just worried about him, you know?"

"Why? Because he's deaf?" He didn't know why he'd pointed it out and cut Dan off, but now he couldn't stop. It wasn't that he was angry—he really had no reason to be; this wasn't his fight—but more, confused. Either Dan was emotional and just talking out his ass or this was how he really thought. Taking into consideration the fact that he'd just seen Dan completely fall apart, it seemed like more of the former.

"What? No—I," There was distress in Dan's voice and he shook his head frantically. "Look, it's just—just—I'm worried about him for a stupid reason. And I want him to come home. It's not because he's deaf. That was a stupid thing to say and I shouldn't have said it because that'd not _why_ I'm worried. He can—he can take care of himself perfectly fine. But I want him to come home. I fucked up really badly and I don't know if he's ever going to forgive me and I just want him to come home."

That frustration was forcing its way into him, making him visibly tense and his voice tight with it, and Michael couldn't come up with a way to calm him down. He had no idea what was going on, no clue what Dan was thinking, and not even the slightest guess of where Gavin could be. When it came down to it, they were still out here in the fucking dark at three in the morning, both of them cold and shivering slightly, Dan upset and Michael confused. In other words, they were pretty much back at square fucking one. Or, rather, they'd never _left_ square one.

Maybe they had, though. They'd gotten _somewhere_. From the looks of it, Dan was at least a little calmer than he had been before. That was at least one good thing. And it turned out, he'd been using the whole 'Gavin can't take care of himself because he's deaf' as an excuse to be worried about him, which left Michael a little less confused. But only a little, since that subsequently meant that Dan felt like he had to cover up with a shitty offensive excuse instead of just telling Michael why he was worried in the first place. That was strange in itself. It was completely understandable to worry about a seventeen year old emotionally charged kid who'd just run away, but for some reason, Dan had come up with a bad excuse for it.

He shook his head; the question of why the hell Dan needed an excuse wasn't the most important thing right now. It was hardly of importance at all. What was important was figuring out what was going on and then doing whatever he could do. He'd already gotten involved in this and Michael wasn't someone who started something and then backed out. He wasn't _that_ much of an asshole. He'd at least finish what he'd started, even if he didn't belong in this argument in the first place and if it wasn't even a good idea to get involved. It didn't look like Dan and Gavin were going to sort things out themselves anyways, with Gavin god knows where and Dan not even knowing if he was going to come home.

Michael sighed, glancing back at his house, for once shining brightly since he'd turned on almost every light on his way downstairs, "What's going on? You two have been friends for—how long did you say? Why wouldn't he forgive you? I realize he's stubborn, but come on, he'd be a complete asshole to not forgive you. You're his best friend."

Dan just shook his head, still not looking Michael in the eyes. In the darkness, he could just barely make out the lines of worry lining his face, "Michael, I need to find him."

"We can't. Not now. He'll come back. He doesn't have anywhere to go," He was trying to stay calm and collected, playing what usually seemed to be Dan's part in this all. For once, he didn't feel annoyance or irritation. It was probably the first time in a long time that he hadn't felt any anger in an emotional situation like this. He remembered a couple weeks ago when he'd felt a similar way, the last time he'd fought with his mother, right out on the front lawn. He'd felt oddly calm and collected then, too—before she talked about conversion therapy, that was.

"No, you don't understand. I have to find him. Michael. Please. Help me."

"We can't look," He was starting to see that reasoning with him might be useless. There was nothing else he could do, though. He had no idea what was going on and couldn't offer condolences or shitty advice, both of which he was bad at in the first place. All he could do was try to calm him down. "It's three in the goddamn morning. The only thing we can do is call the police. He'll come back. We don't need to find him right now. He doesn't want to be found. What's going on anyways—"

"I lied, alright?!" Dan's voice echoed through the empty, silent neighborhood, loud and desperate and full of panic like Michael had never heard in anyone else. He felt himself take a step back, felt himself glance back at his house again, feeling the rising urge to flee, but he kept himself grounded. _Don't run_. Dan looked him straight in the eyes, his pupils huge as he screamed out his every word, losing that last bit of composure he carried himself with, his calmness fading into a part of him Michael had never seen, a part of him that actually _frightened_ him, "I _fucking_ lied! For three months! I lied to him every day about his parents! I fucked up and I lied and Geoff and Griffon lied too! I looked him in the eyes every day and fucking _lied_ to him and you know what? I don't even know why! I could've just told him! We all could've just told him. And now he _figured it out_ and I can't even tell him the goddamn truth, even though he knows it. Yeah, I _fucked up_. I fucked up a lot."

-

"Months?"

He set a mug of tea down on the table in front of Dan. He didn't even take his eyes off of the television screen, 'watching' the national weather channel on mute. If he was going to zone out and shut everything else out, whether intentionally or unintentionally, he could've at least done a better job of pretending like he was actually there.

"Ever since I overheard Geoff and Griffon," He almost didn't catch Dan's words, not expecting him to respond. Dan was hunched over at Michael's kitchen table, a spot for him cleared in the mess of papers, mail, and whatever else his mother decided to bring home and never even glance at again. Finally, Dan looked up at him, his expression nothing that Michael could read. All the panic and desperation had just gone out of him the moment the moment he'd finished screaming at the top of his lungs, and now he just looked worn-out and tired. "Since September."

It really had been months. Nearly three. Dan had been lying to Gavin about whatever for three months. Not just him, but the rest of his adoptive family, as well. He was starting to understand why Gavin had run off at the first chance he got. He didn't know completely what this was all about, but Gavin seemed like the type of person who hated getting lied to, and Michael honestly couldn't blame him, since it hadn't just been Dan. It'd been his _whole family_.

With a sigh, Michael cleared off the chair next to Dan, pushing the stack of magazines to the ground and flopping into it, suddenly exhausted after a long night. Dan spared him just a short glance and leaned forward, hunched over with his face in his hands. A beat of silence fell between them and then, "It's hard, you know? Sometimes I still see him as that kid in the hospital. Sometimes I have to remember that he's grown up and can take care of himself. That he doesn't actually need me. It's hard. I want to be right there by him all the time but I know that I _can't_ because I'm just his friend and nothing more, really. It sort of sucks, I guess."

"Just his friend?" Putting Gavin and Dan's relationship into simple terms like that didn't seem right. A simple close friendship wasn't even near whatever they had. Besides, Dan was his translator, too. That had to count for something.

"Yeah. Sucks. A lot. I don't know, Michael. I can't see myself being anywhere but his side in the future. I don't really want to be anywhere but there. I don't know. I don't want to be _just_ his friend who's his translator anymore. I don't know what I want."

"What's going on?" He couldn't take this vagueness anymore, this beating around the bush. He understood what Dan was saying, but had no context to fit it with and after hours of being involved in this whole argument between them, he thought he deserved to know at least a little bit about what was going on.

Dan didn't respond at first, leaving Michael to believe that he wasn't going to answer. He started to get up, desperate to do something other than just sitting with him in silence, when he saw Dan shake his head slowly, "Gav's parents were supposed to go to prison for twenty years. They got out after five."

Michael froze. His entire body went rigid, his eyes going wide. He couldn't even breathe. It made sense now. Finally. And it was a bunch of bullshit. Not the lying sort of bullshit, but the actual bullshit, where things happened that absolutely shouldn't. This was a prime example of that type.

Dan went on, Michael's mind barely processing it, "That's what I lied about. I've known since September and I didn't tell him. Geoff and Griffon knew, too. The only way I know is because I overheard them and we've all kept it from Gav. I don't even know why. I don't know. Like I said, sometimes I still think of him as that kid in the hospital. Maybe I didn't think he could handle it. Maybe it was the guilt. I really don't know."

This wasn't his place to tread. _Don't ask that question. Don't do it._ He had to know, though.

"What'd they do?"

Dan closed his eyes and then turned to look at Michael, snapping out of his half-trance at last. He looked the most tired Michael had ever seen him, eyelids drooping over brown eyes, seeming overall exhausted with the way he was completely hunched over. Still, he looked Michael straight in the eyes, appearing as to have regained a bit of his usual self back, which Michael was glad to see after the chaos of the night. Then, slowly, he spoke, each word measured and clam, like usual, in stark contrast to what he was saying, "They were the worst pair of child abusers I've ever even heard of."

He'd almost expected that. He'd guessed they'd abused him. After all, Gavin was adopted and Dan had implied abuse when he'd told Michael about Gavin's deafness. But the worst? Michael hadn't even known there was any sort of a scale. All child abuse was horrible and it didn't seem like one was more horrid than the next.

"Yeah. The worst," Dan continued to look him straight in the eyes. Michael almost regretted asking. "They were bad enough physically and mentally, but that's not what makes them the worst. Oh god, Gavin bloody _baffled_ psychologists who checked him out. No one could figure him out. Everyone poked and prodded and ran experiments, but no one could figure out how he could testify so clearly and tell everyone exactly what happened without mistakes in his story without any emotion on his face. No one ever completely figured out why he reacted like that. Guess they didn't spend enough time with him."

"You're—you're telling me—" No fucking way. Whatever they'd done had caused him to go _deaf_ and he was still able to stand in court without emotion or mistakes? That was—Michael wasn't even sure what to call it. "You're telling me he testified in front of his parents and didn't show any emotion? Fucking hell."

Dan was shaking his head again, "Yeah. But I know what you're thinking. It was strong and brave of him or whatever. It wasn't, though. And that's the problem. Gavin wasn't strong or brave and he also wasn't angry or sad. He wasn't emotional at all. His reaction was to not react. He'd somehow gotten himself to shut off every bit of emotion and had just turned to logical thinking. He didn't react at all. He remembered clearly what had happened. There was no repression. He knew what was going on in the present, too. It wasn't coping. It wasn't healing. It was him not being able to react at all. And that's what always terrified me, because he had to learn that from some _where_ because of some _thing_ at some _point_."

"I—" He stopped himself, not even knowing what to say.

"He adapted. You know him. He's always two steps ahead of the game. He knew what was happening and what had happened but all he did was adapt, not react. And no one could figure out why or how to fix it. Then again, no one really spent enough time with him. He had a reason to force himself to just completely shut down and he could do it effortlessly. I don't even want to think about the amount of practice that probably required. They were horrible people, and the fact that Gavin hid it so well is the most terrifying aspect of the whole thing."

He understood now, or at least partly did. He understood exactly how he felt and Dan was able to paint a picture for him, one that Michael could clearly see and one that made him regret asking the question in the first place. It was too late to go back now, though, so he kept pressing on, unsure he really wanted to hear the answers.

"So the concussion you talked about—the really bad one—that was caused by—?" He didn't even have to say it, leaving it hanging in the air, a sentence Michael didn't want to finish.

Dan stared, and then nodded, "He'd kill me if he knew what I was telling you. He'd absolutely bloody murder me."

"He's already mad," Michael just pointed out, shrugging. If Gavin was already angry, there really wasn't any point in fearing him getting any angrier. The damage was already done and Gavin was already pissed. "Touchy subject, I take it?"

"Not really. And that's the point. He can still tell you everything that happened in vivid detail. But he doesn't cry or scream or get angry over it. If anything, the only thing that angers him or causes any sort of a reaction is people's responses to it. The only reason he doesn't want anyone knowing is because he thinks people will pity him. That, and it's like his deafness—he doesn't think it's important."

"Well, that's not untrue. The pity part, I mean," He got why Gavin didn't want people to know. After all, even he'd felt sorry for him the first time Dan had told him about how he went deaf. Granted, that had only been part of the story and Michael's pity had been short-lived but it was still the same thing. He could easily see how others would pity him, especially since the abuse was accompanied by resulting deafness.

Dan raised an eyebrow at him, saying nothing, though Michael knew immediately what he was asking.

"No, I don't pity him," He shook his head, frowning. It was true—he would've if Dan had told him this part back when they sat in the little café together, but not now. He knew Gavin now, at least to an extent. And he knew Dan, too. A lot had changed in the short few months of fall, and Michael had somehow found himself bunched in with the two.

Dan just nodded again, his hands around the cup of tea Michael had made him, his eyes back on the muted television set. Michael sat in silence with him, absorbed in his own thoughts. A lot had changed. It'd started in the summer, when he first saw them, a hot June day. Gavin had been one of the first people to ever call him out on his rage, to knowingly pick a fight with him, and later, the only person to ever stand in the way of a fight Michael was starting. Dan had started the fall as an extension of Gavin, part two of the dynamic British annoying duo and now he was sitting at Michael's kitchen table with him, close and interpersonal, the two of them alone and having an actual conversation. Over the course of the fall, Michael's friend pool had increased from one to two plus one—Dan, someone he could undoubtedly call a friend, and Gavin, who he wasn't quite sure was a _friend_ per say, but he was definitely _something_.

And—something else had changed, too. He was finally noticing it, in the calmness of the moment, in the comfortable silence. He'd changed. He'd changed a lot. And it was _because_ of said dynamic British duo that he'd changed. His fight count so far this year totaled to an astonishing one and a half—the one being Gavin punching him and nearly breaking his nose, the half being his almost-fight in school with the junior that lived down the block. That was—shocking, to say the least. He usually had at least half a dozen on his record by the time first semester ended. This year was one and a half, and that one hadn't even been a fight in school.

He was different. A lot different. He wasn't snapping every time someone said the wrong thing. He didn't get riled up so quickly. He wasn't being so rash. He wasn't—he wasn't constantly _angry_ anymore. He still felt it, but he was finally fighting to control it, rather than fighting for someone to take it out on. It was all because of the assholes who weren't really all that much of assholes who'd moved in across the street. Tutoring after school had given him something to do other than sit at home alone all day. Gavin had actually called him out on his shit and being around Dan's constant calmness and easy nature had worked at making _him_ calm.

"So how'd he find out?" Michael broke the silence almost unwillingly. It wasn't awkward or uncomfortable and he was perfectly happy with letting Dan think some, but Michael did want to know the rest of what was going on.

"There's more I haven't told you and when I do tell you I'm going to sound like a horrible person."

Michael nearly rolled his eyes, "I don't really think I'm in a place to make that judgment. Especially when it sounds like you lied for Gavin's sake. It would be different if you lied just to be an asshole."

Dan didn't look at him, not saying anything. He'd probably said too much. Or the wrong thing. He couldn't really imagine Dan as being selfish. He was so close with Gavin—there was no way he would've done it with pure self-interest.

"I was selfish. No, shit—I _am_ selfish," There was a tone of self-loathing in Dan's voice, confirming Michael's suspicions. He didn't breathe, too afraid he'd say the wrong thing again, waiting for him to go on. "I lied. A lot. And Gavin trusted me so he believed whatever I told him. I'm not going to make excuses. There's more that I haven't told you, though. Gavin was—Gavin was bloody good at hiding it. He did alright in school—better than most, actually, if I remember right—and he was socialable and had a lot of friends and acquaintances. He wasn't violent or anything like that. He was really normal. The only thing weird about him was the fact that he was pretty much the biggest closet gamer I'd ever met and that he wore long sleeves all the time and came to school with these huge bruises.

"He was a normal kid, so people just thought he had brother that got rough while playing with him or he and some other kid on his block just really didn't like each other. I think we were around eight when we became friends and it was because he would always walk to the shop my father owned and buy whatever new game came out. We got to talking and when he found out I liked video games, he was instantly all over me. We hung out all the time, but he'd never let me come over to his house. So, I—That was when I first started figuring it out, I guess. Whenever I'd press into things, he'd completely shut me down and change the subject so that I couldn't go back to it."

"You knew," Michael breathed it out, slowly, wanting to take it back as soon as he said it. He'd heard about it more than once—bystanders' effect. That was at least what those psychology textbooks Michael had read the night before the final had called it.

A hesitation. The moment seemed to last forever, "I don't remember when I completely figured it out. I know I did before the entire incident happened. It was definitely before secondary school. There was this one day when I finally went over to his house and as soon as his parents got home, he yelled at me to go home and nearly shoved me out his balcony before anything happened. I knew before then, too. He never talked about it, but towards the end he'd sometimes climb through my window and show up in my room after I got home from a study group or meeting with someone and I didn't ask any questions. It was getting real bad towards the end and he was constantly missing school and being out of contact. But I didn't do anything. I didn't tell anyone. I knew. I knew what was going on. But I didn't do anything. And I just wanted to make up for that, I guess."

"Make up for it?" Michael repeated the words, each one of them feeling strange to say. He was still working at understanding everything and taking it all in.

"Yeah," Dan sighed, sitting up and focusing his brown eyes on Michael. "Didn't do anything then. I wanted to do something now. I was actually—I was the one who drove him to the hospital. I was twelve. He was twelve. No one ever visited him, either. All his family had shut him out. No one could believe it because he'd never acted like anything had been wrong. Do you know what that's like—Seeing someone you really bloody _care_ about suffer because you didn't call the police? Michael, half the time I couldn't even tell if he knew I was there. I slept there. I stayed day and night. He was alone and no one ever visited him. It was a really shitty reason for staying there, too. You know why? I didn't stay because he was my best friend. I stayed because I felt _guilty_."

Dan wasn't a bad person.

At least, Michael didn't think so. Nothing could convince him otherwise. This didn't make him a bad person. It was what anyone would've done, wasn't it? He didn't respond, again at a loss for words. There were a lot of things that could make shitty people. There were a lot of people Michael thought were shitty people for various reasons—his bigoted mother, his drunk father, his in denial brothers, the people who thought they were so much better than him for whatever reason, the pompous assholes who lived in the neighborhood—but this was not one of them. Regardless of his reasons, Dan had stayed with Gavin. Not just through his hospital stay, but up until now.

"You're still feeling guilty?" Dan had mentioned something about guilt earlier, too. That couldn't be the reason he'd stayed these five years. Michael couldn't believe that and he wouldn't take that as an answer.

"Yes—wait," Dan seemed taken aback by his question, his mouth slightly agape and his eyes fully open, no longer retaining any more of the exhaustion that had been so apparent in his face. "No. Wait. Yes and no. Bloody hell. I feel guilty because I stayed with him because I felt guilty and that wasn't right. But—Michael, please don't think—I'm not here now, in the states with Gavin and being his translator, because I still feel guilty. That's not why I'm here. I want to be here. With him. And I want a future with him and I want to _keep_ being here with him and I want to be something more than just his friend who's his translator—but it's not because I still feel guilty."

That was a relief, at least.

"Then why'd you lie? I mean, I'm sure he would've been fine, since his parents are all the way back in England and he's here with you. It doesn't sound like either of you are heading back there soon and they're probably on parole, so—"

Dan's chair clattered to the ground, the sound shaking the weakened floorboards of the house, sending a pile of old unread mail tumbling from the table. Michael started, leaping out of his own chair, not quite as fast as Dan had, jumping back and bracing himself, fighting to keep control and realize that Dan wasn't going to hurt him.

"That's the point!" He wasn't yelling, but his voice was strained again, tight and his volume rising. Michael himself tried to keep calm and breathe, repeating again and again that Dan wasn't angry with _him_ , he was just angry with himself. Michael hadn't done anything to anger him at all. "I—I did something really goddamn stupid. I wanted to make up for not doing anything five years ago and I told Geoff and Griffon that I wanted to go back to England to talk to them and they're trying to find Gavin again, Michael, they already contacted the adoption agency and I never wanted this to happen and he was never supposed to find out—"

"Dan," He rose his own voice, keeping it firm and controlled. He could see the strings becoming undone again and fraying at the seams. He had to stop it before Dan completely lost it again. It felt odd, playing what Michael considered to be Dan's calm, peacekeeping role, but it was necessary. Nothing was going to get done if Dan didn't calm down.

Dan stopped midsentence, going silent and breathing hard.

"He'll come back. You two can talk it out then. He'll come back, Dan. He has nowhere else to go, so he has to," He tried to assure him, relaxing slowly. Dan's sudden switch in mood had gotten him on-edge. "It'll be alright."

"I lied," Dan said again. "He caught me in my lie about the trip. I leave in two weeks for England with Geoff. I don't know how, but he knew it was a lie and he caught me in it. And then he just took off."

Michael could hear his heart thundering in his chest. He didn't breathe. Dan didn't know, but Michael did. He knew _exactly_ how Gavin had found out and now, it was his turn to feel guilty. Everything could've gone off perfectly fine if it hadn't been for him. Like usual.

A short sound interrupted the shocked silence. Dan took a long look at his phone and then sighed, "Geoff. He wants me home."

Michael just nodded, barely able to breath after everything was said and done.

-

He showed Dan out, assuring him Gavin would be alright again, telling him to call him if anything happened. He watched him walk across the street, watching as he went back into his house, finally letting out a sigh of relief as he shut off all the lights downstairs and began the trek up the stairs. There was still no word from his mother and he didn't wait for one or expect any contact. He didn't even clean up the kitchen, leaving Dan's untouched mug of tea on the table and the chair on the ground as a reminder of the conversation they'd had and that Michael had had a part in this, too.

Sleep sounded better than anything now. He felt like he was about to drop, right here and now. He'd keep his phone on loud in case anything happened and if Gavin wasn't back by morning, he knew he'd be the first to help Dan look for him. But right now, he needed sleep, and he was fully prepared to throw himself down on his bed as soon as he opened the door to his bedroom, but the instant he saw the light streaming from inside the room, knowing he hadn't left the goddamn overhead light on, he knew that wasn't happening.

So, really, it was no surprise what he found. He threw the door open, standing in the doorway, frowning as a shrill, jumbled shout of, "Don't call Dan!" resounded throughout the entire house.

There, in the middle of his floor, stood Gavin Free, still panting as if he'd just climbed through the open window behind him, shivering with a thin pair of pajama pants and a sweatshirt on, slightly wet and with twigs and leaves stuck in his already messy sandy hair, his hands raised in a sign of surrender.

"Oh my god," Was all Michael could say. He'd seen it all tonight. He'd seen Dan completely lose it and sob on his shoulder. He'd heard all about what had happened in Gavin's past. He'd seen Dan yell and shout, angry at himself. And now he'd seen Gavin, having run away from Dan and probably from his family, as well, right here in his room.

He'd assumed Gavin was going to go home. After all, the reason Michael had never run away was because he had nowhere to run _to_. Gavin had run away from Dan and took off into someone's yard and Michael had thought he'd eventually realize he was being a goddamn idiot and come back. Turns out, he was wrong. Gavin _did_ have somewhere to run to. That somewhere just happened to involve climbing through Michael's window.

"Don't call Dan," Gavin told him again, dropping his hands to his side. His speech was better this time. Michael had apparently just caught him off guard beforehand. "Just—don't call Dan. Just one night, Michael. Please."

Michael shut the door behind him, rubbing his eyes. "Yeah, whatever. Just not after Monday, alright? I won't call Dan now."

-

If there was ever a situation in which Michael Jones wondered what the hell he was doing, it would be now. There was one simple reason why he wondered—and that reason was currently curled up against him and he could feel its breath on his neck.

If he had known Gavin would curl up against his back like this, he would've just slept on the floor. But, of course, no one had told him that fucking Gavin Free liked to sleep up against people, so Michael had been in for a surprise, a surprise that kept him up for long after he finally laid down. The dawn was breaking through the windows and he could see it rising over Dan and Gavin's house through the blinds, pink and orange and yellow lighting up the wall across from the windows and separated by the shadows on the blinds. He watched it, his eyes following the sun as it rose, Gavin's soft breathing against his neck and back, his hands against his shoulders.

He was exhausted. He was so tired that he actually just couldn't get to sleep. He kept willing it to come to him, begging it to relieve him of thought, but his mind kept on going back to his conversation with Dan over and over again. He couldn't get it out of his mind—the way Dan had been so panicked and guilty for lying, the way he'd described the guilt over not helping Gavin five years ago, everything. His thoughts circled around it.

He and Gavin hadn't talked much. He hadn't brought up the fight. All Gavin said was that he didn't want to go home and the look on his face when he'd said that had been the most striking thing of the night. Dan had told him he'd found Gavin in his room after he'd climbed through his window, and here Gavin was now, in the exact same situation, having climbed through Michael's window and showed up when he didn't want to go back home. And Michael let him, not pressing the subject. They'd started a couple games of Halo and then gone to bed, Gavin unexpectedly curling up against him without any explanation.

The sun finally broke over the roof of the house across the street, a cold nearly-winter's breeze blowing through the window Michael hadn't even bothered to shut.

"Dan?"

He had his phone up against his ear. Gavin didn't stir beside him, unable to hear Michael calling exactly who Gavin didn't want to even see.

"Michael? What's up?"

"You haven't slept either, have you?"

A pause. "I've been out on the porch all night. Maybe that's why he hasn't come back."

Michael closed his eyes at the sound of Dan's voice, letting a sigh out against the receiver.

"Michael?"

"I'm here."

"Good."

And then nothing. He could hear Dan's quiet breathing on the other end. He felt Gavin's grip on his shoulder tighten and then loosen again. A car drove by on the street and Michael heard it both through the open window and the phone.

"He's here. I found him in my room after you went home. Sorry. He didn't want me to tell you. He's sleeping right up against me right now."

Nothing. Michael let himself listen to Dan's breathing on the other end.

"Dan?"

"Yeah. He does that." He didn't sound angry or upset. If anything, he was relieved.

"Does what?"

"Sleeps up against you. He likes having someone to hold onto. It's how he sees in the dark. He's done it with me every night for years."

He liked listening to Dan. He liked laying here with his eyes closed listening to him. Gavin sleeping against him was a little odd, but not entirely unwelcome.

"Do you want me to come get him?"

His voice sounded nearby, even though it was coming through the phone receiver.

"No. It's alright."

And it was. Even though things were bad, even though Gavin was furious with Dan and Dan had just spilled everything to Michael and even though Michael was caught in the middle of it all, right now, right in this moment, things were alright. Maybe they wouldn't be tomorrow or in the next hour or even in the next minute, and maybe things would suddenly come down and hit him with more problems and emotions, but right now, things were alright. It was right now that mattered to him, right now lying in his room as day broke over the horizon, listening to Dan and the muffled sounds from outside, feeling Gavin's breath against his skin, close and intimate.

"You're in love with Gavin, aren't you?" Michael said it easily, the thought entering his mind and exiting his lips.

There wasn't even a hesitation on Dan's end. "I could fall in love with him a thousand times and never once get tired of it."


	9. Fall VI part two

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It was fall when everything changed, and winter where things started to mend.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So this is the last fall chapter! I apologize for how long this took. I took a break for winter break and this chapter involved a lot of rewriting. If you guys weren't aware, Theory of Sound now has a [page on my blog](http://burnvins.co.vu/tos), and a wonderful [fanmix](http://burnvins.co.vu/post/69727414036/skyebyrd-theory-of-sound-a-fanmix-for-tumblr)! Also, thank you to [MC](http://immoralhd.tumblr.com/) for betaing this chapter.  
> Updates are being moved to every other week! Sorry for the long chapter and cw for discussions of child abuse. [Tumblr post](http://burnvins.co.vu/post/74021426195/theory-of-sound-fall-vi-part-2)

_I love him._

_I hate him._

_I can't believe he fucking lied to me._

He couldn't go home.

Not now and not for a while at the very least. He couldn't go home. It wasn't that he didn't want to go home; it was that he couldn't. He wouldn't. He couldn't go home, not today, not tomorrow, not in the near future. He couldn't go home, so here he was, having climbed the tree outside Michael's room again, dropping in through his window. He didn't speak about it and didn't give any sort of explanation—Michael hadn't asked for one. Somehow, someway, Michael just _knew_ , and Gavin was just too tired of being angry and hurt that he didn't ask how or why because Michael was the one person he had left to run to.

Geoff? Bloody _hell_ no. Geoff had lied. Griffon had lied, too. They'd all lied. Dan, Geoff, and Griffon. He'd put all his trust into them, into his _family_ , and they'd all lied to him. Every one of them had known for _months_ , probably since it'd happened, and not one of them had said a single passing word to him. They were his family, and they'd all lied to him. He didn't care about the reason or excuses. That didn't matter. What did matter, though, was that they'd lied, that they'd been able to face him every day for _months_ and act like everything was bloody fine, creating a web of lies around him that he'd been stupid and naïve enough to actually believe. Geoff, Griffon, and Dan were the reasons he couldn't go home, the reasons he didn't even want to step foot on the property.

Burnie? Also a no. Burnie was like an uncle to him, but that made him a brother to Geoff. There was no doubt about it—Burnie would call Geoff straight away and he'd be taken back home and have to face them. The same went for the rest of the people at the company. They were like family to him, but they'd return him to his _actual_ family in a heartbeat.

That left him with one person to turn to. Michael. Michael was the only person who wouldn't force him to go back home and the only person who even had a chance of allowing him to stay with him, at least for a short while. He also wouldn't try to get him to talk about it or whatever, so that was an added bonus and the factor that had Gavin climbing over the fence in Michael's backyard, circling around to the front, and pulling himself up through the branches of the tree and into Michael's room.

-

When he woke up, everything was almost fine.

For a moment, he thought he was back at home, back in the room he shared with Dan, back just waking up suddenly in early morning to the biting air of the always-open window, back with Dan's warmth against him and pressed under his fingertips, and for that moment, he almost believed it. It was all wrong, though. Dawn's just-risen light streamed through the open window across from the bed, rather than from beside it, as it was at home. The bed felt smaller, with Gavin's back pressed up against the wall. And he knew immediately it wasn't Dan he was sleeping up against. It was Michael.

Then nothing was fine. Everything was wrong and he wasn't at home and there was no way he could go home. He closed his eyes again, for the first time in his life grateful of the closed-off world it provided, accompanied by the silence he heard every day. His world ended at his fingertips, curled against Michael's shoulders, and he leaned forward to rest his forehead against his back, taking a shuddering breath through his mouth. Nothing was fine. Everything was wrong and wanted to be back at home, back when everything _had_ been fine, back when nothing was confusing and everything was the same as it had been right after moving in. He didn't _want_ to remember that everyone had lied to him and he didn't _want_ to feel anything like this for Dan and he didn't _want_ to know what he'd found.

Ignorance was bliss.

Gavin had said that a lot to Dan back in the rehabilitation center in a shoddy attempt to ease his guilt. He'd also said it a lot sarcastically whenever he talked about school systems in relation to abused kids. He'd never really believed the saying himself. He'd tried to comfort Dan with it (needless to say, comforting people was _not_ Gavin's strong suit) and sarcastically used it as an excuse for school systems doing nothing about kids who were obviously abused, but he was someone who'd always needed to know _everything_. Gavin needed constant visual and mental stimulation or else he'd get tired of everything quickly. Reasons, explanations, details—it was all important to him. He'd always viewed ignorance as boring and lacking in what he needed to stay interested. But now things were different.

Now he didn't _want_ to know. He wanted to be able to go home. He wanted to have never found out about what was happening back in Oxford. He wanted to have never realized the feelings for Dan that had been developing over _years_. He wanted the control of his life back. He wanted to go back to when things were fine and he was in control and able to go any way he wanted. He hated this—this constant confusion, this inability to return home, this feeling of absolute _wrongness_ that just hung over him. All he wanted was his life and his family back.

He'd be fine not knowing what was going on. If Dan hadn't been so obvious about taking weirdly timed calls and hadn't let Michael eavesdrop in them, he would've never known. He would've believed Dan's lie about a family member dying and that would've been that. But now he knew. And now he had to find out everything. He couldn't live half in ignorance and half in the truth. He needed the truth about this, about everything, and he needed to know how far the lies had reached.

Pretty far, he could only assume. Far enough that it'd wrapped up everyone and had extended all the way back to Gavin and Dan's hometown. It was big enough to make him not be able to go home, large enough to involve everyone around him. He didn't _want_ the truth. He didn't want to know how much everyone had lied to him and he didn't _want_ to know how what had happened correlated with Dan going back to England. He didn't want to know any of it, because he knew he wouldn't like what he'd hear and he knew it'd just hurt him more, but he _needed_ to know.

He didn't even want to think about it anymore. Maybe Dan didn't want to be here anymore. He'd assumed that was the problem once Dan had told him the lie about a family member dying. He'd assumed he was homesick and tired of being loped with Gavin and wanted his own future, but once he'd looked further and had gone through Dan's internet history he'd realized that wasn't the whole truth. It was still part of it, definitely—why would he want to stick with Gavin his whole life, anyways? He had his own potential, his own future, but he was stuck with Gavin. This was inevitable, but that didn't mean that Gavin wanted it to happen. It just meant he knew it would, and he'd taken all his time with him for granted since he'd been stupid enough to not realize it.

He could feel Michael's heartbeat under his fingertips, the rhythmic beating just gently pulsing under his heated skin. He counted each beat, focusing wholly on that, on the skin beneath his hands. Slowly, he let it lull him back to sleep, desperate for an escape from his thoughts and the way his mind continued to whirl around Geoff and Griffon and the lies and then Dan, Dan, Dan.

-

The next thing he knew, he was being violently shaken awake.

There was no moment of bliss, no moment of ignorance. All at once, the world came falling down around him as Michael shook him awake. He didn't try to fight, not trying to push Michael off of him or ask what was going on. Instead, he just let it happen, looking up at Michael with bleary eyes as he clutched Gavin's shoulders and told him what was going on, Gavin just awake enough to lipread what he was saying.

"You have to get out or hide or… something.. My mother's home. I'm sorry, I'll talk to you later."

He was frantic, his lips moving almost too fast for Gavin, his grip on his shoulders beginning to hurt as Michael dug his fingernails in, presumably unintentionally and just out of his sheer panic. His brown eyes were huge and again, Gavin suddenly noticed the hundreds of freckles spotting his cheeks and forehead. He watched for a moment as Michael hovered over him, desperate and panicking, watching as Michael's huge brown eyes flickered every few seconds towards the door, laying still beneath him as he stopped talking and just looked from Gavin to the door and back.

And then, without meaning to, he laughed.

He didn't know why. Nothing was funny—that much was obvious. But nevertheless, he just started laughing, immediately feeling close to crying with laughter. It was too much too fast and it wasn't funny—quite the opposite, actually—but he was still here, in someone else's bed with Michael hovering over him in danger of getting discovered by Michael's mother, and he was laughing like someone had just told him the funniest goddamn joke ever.

He laughed and laughed, and the expression on Michael's face slowly went from panic to confusion to anger, and then, surprisingly, to understanding. For one reason or another, he seemed to understand why Gavin had suddenly gone hysterical, which reinforced the idea that Michael probably knew something that Dan had probably told him, but honestly, Gavin still didn't care. His eyes were watering from laughing so hard and it was all he could do but reach up and wipe the tears from his eyes as he finally started to calm down.

He had to leave. Michael had said it himself.

"I'll talk to you later. I promise," Michael was saying. Gavin just nodded.

He was quick about it, quick to get out from underneath Michael, quick to open the window and climb out, quick enough that he'd just found his usual purchase in the tree outside when he saw a flash of the door being thrown open and a rattle that vibrated beneath his lingering fingers on the house. His quickness stopped about there and he clambered down slowly, only stopping and forcing himself to realize where he had to go now once he was standing on Michael's front lawn, feet wet from the dew on the grass.

He had to go home.

There was nowhere else he _could_ go. Home was the only thing he had. Home was where Dan was. Home was where his parents were. Home was where everything important to him was. His only other viable option was Michael, and that option had just been exhausted with the arrival of his mother. He had nothing else. It was either go home or walk around the neighborhood and probably end up getting himself completely and utterly lost. Which really, he easily _could_ do. But the issue with that was that he was tired. He didn't want to run anymore. He wanted to sleep uninterrupted. He wanted to not worry. And above all, he just wanted control of his life back.

That was the one thing he didn't want, though, was to go back home. He'd felt this way before, but not in years and years, and even now it wasn't the same. He could at least still _call_ it home. He had one to begin with and no matter how shitty things were right now, he still had one to return to. He stood on Michael's wet lawn, looking across the street, the sun just barely risen above the roof of the house opposite, and that house was still called _home_. He just didn't want to go back.

So he stood there, looking at his house, the place he could call home, and for the first time in a long time, he thought about five years ago.

That place hadn't been home. It never had been, even when he'd been too small to understand anything. It'd just been a cold house he lived in filled with bad memories and an even worse future. Not home. And those people weren't his parents. He didn't care what his birth certificate said; those people weren't his parents. They'd conceived and given birth to him, but a one night mistake didn't automatically make someone a parent. His parents were Geoff and Griffon and though he was furious with them, they were still his father and mother no matter what and—the fact of the matter was that even though he didn't really _want_ to realize it, he knew and recognized right now that Geoff and Griffon wouldn't have lied to him if they didn't think it was in his best interest. The point was that they'd still lied to him, and even though he knew forgiveness was inevitable, he was angry _now_ about it.

Geoff and Griffon were—weird parents, to say the least. And not just by Gavin's standards, either, which he knew weren't the right kind of standards he should've had for parents. They were weird, even Dan had said so. Weird, but in a good way. Gavin couldn't even begin to imagine where he'd be if they hadn't come along. The thing with Geoff and Griffon was that they treated Gavin like a person. Not like a fragile thing. Not like a helpless animal. Not like something they weren't even going to try to understand. They treated him like exactly what he was—an independent person who had apparently strange emotional responses, and who just happened to be deaf. They didn't cut him any slack, and they didn't give him any crap. And it was that that had made Gavin take to them immediately all those years ago.

If he could make a list of all the things he knew for certain, the fact that Geoff and Griffon loved him more than anything would be at the very top of that list. They loved him and that was why he knew for certain that they wouldn't have done this if they hadn't had their reasons. That was why that house across the street was still home and why he knew he'd have to go back eventually and more than anything else, why he knew he'd eventually understand.

Unfortunately, he couldn't say the same for Dan.

Up until now, he thought he'd understood Dan. More than ten years of friendship had them so close that even Gavin could see that Dan was his compliment, the person he needed to balance himself out. Now, he was just an unreachable enigma. He felt like he understood nothing about him and he was finally, finally starting to see that things hadn't been completely platonic between them for a long time. He loved Dan and he loved him a lot, and it was so much more than thinking of him as part of the family. It'd been brewing for a long time and he'd just gone along with it, not really thinking about what it was or why it was happening. It was just a thing and it was there, but now he'd realized what it was and it made him so terrified of fucking up what they already had that Gavin was left without the slightest idea of what to do about it.

That was considering they still _had_ some sort of friendship. Dan had _lied_ to him. Dan was different from Geoff and Griffon. Geoff and Griffon were his parents and would've only done this for a good reason. He was still furious at them, but that was nothing compared with Dan. Dan had _earned_ all of Gavin's trust and was the one person Gavin trusted with everything. He could tell anything to Dan because Dan was his best friend, the person Gavin couldn't imagine a future without, and the person who'd gone to hell with Gavin and back. And he'd lied to him. It didn't even matter the lie right now—just the simple fact that he'd taken his trust and betrayed it was enough for Gavin to want desperately to hate him.

He couldn't, though. He couldn't hate Dan. And that was what kept him here, standing on Michael's lawn, looking across the street at the house he could associate home with, wishing everything was easier and that feelings weren't this complex. He hated ignorance, but he wanted to go back to it, back to an easier time. Everything had spiraled out of his control, and control was something Gavin absolutely _needed._

The thought of control brought five years ago back again and this time, Gavin could do nothing from keeping it from his mind. Five years ago wasn't something he could dwell on. He could divide his life into three parts—before, during, and after. Before was all the time up until everything had happened. During was the incident and the following six months of hell he'd spent going from hospital to hospital to rehabilitation center. After was now, the following years, and everything else was the past. The past was the past. There was no use dwelling on it or trying to change it. It was set in stone and what was done was done.

That was something he'd never understood about Dan. No matter how much he tried to mask it, Gavin knew that Dan's feelings of guilt remained to this day. He no longer pitied Gavin or anything of the sort—he always treated him just as he'd treat anyone else, never calling attention to his lack of the ability to hear—but sometimes, it was clear that he still felt responsible for something that had been far out of his control. Dan just couldn't seem to understand it. What was done was done. No amount of guilt or regret would change that, so why even think about it? He supposed that also probably had some part in this. Dan was determined to do something to ease his guilt before he left, so he wouldn't feel guilty about not sticking around Gavin for the rest of his life. It made sense. A lot of sense, actually.

He couldn't just stay in Michael's yard all day. Someone would see him, someone would get angry, and that someone would probably either call his parents or call the cops, and he couldn't decide which was worse. He had to go back now.

It felt like he was forcing himself to walk, like his bare feet were dragging across Michael's wet lawn and then padding on the hard asphalt. The walk seemed to take forever, the journey up to his front door feeling even worse. He wondered if he could actually get in without anyone noticing him, and then decided no, he couldn't. Geoff and Griffon were probably looking everywhere for him, calling the police and anyone who would have any information on him. Dan was… Gavin wasn't actually sure. A lot had changed about him lately, leaving Gavin unsure of whether Dan hated him or felt the same way Gavin did, which were two extremes on the same scale. Either Dan was going out of his mind with worry or he didn't care.

He had his hand on the cold handle of the door, fully prepared to walk in and just not say anything when—

…Speak of the devil himself.

He spun on his feet, whipping around as fingers wrapped around his wrist,tearing his hand away from the door and leaving him staring up at the same person who'd refused to leave his thoughts. Instinctively, he pulled back, trying to rip his hand from Dan's hold. His attempts proved to do absolutely nothing, his wrist staying in the tight hold no matter how hard he yanked. Dan's hand wouldn't budge, reminding Gavin again that Dan was a lot stronger than him, which gave him only one choice-the option to stop trying altogether and face this now-inevitable conversation with Dan.

He hadn't been planning to say anything, and his lack of forethought meant he had nothing planned. He had nothing prepared to tell Dan, no harsh words or arguments. He had nothing, and now that Dan had caught him out here, his mind was devoid of the right words to say to him. His thoughts were a jumble, his emotions an unbearable melting pot of anger, frustration, disbelief, and confusion, and anything he tried to formulate to say felt like it just wasn't enough. So he said nothing, waiting for Dan to do something first.

To his surprise, there was no anger in his face. Gavin glared at him, his lips forming in a scowl, but Dan just looked down blankly at him, as if he was in the same place as Gavin, neither of them speaking or moving or offering any sort of explanation for either of their actions. His brown eyes were wide, his mouth slightly agape like even _he_ was surprised by his own actions.

They were stuck in that moment. Neither of them said anything, neither making any move to do so, and each moment of wordlessness between them just made Gavin even more frustrated. He waited for Dan to say _anything_ , and finally his annoyance came to a breaking point, quickly getting the best of him and making him impatient.

"Well?" He signed it with his freehand, the sign fast with the amount of annoyance he'd put into it. It was a challenge/ He was challenging him to say something to him and putting him into a position where Dan would be forced to talk to him. He didn't want apologies, and he could really only honestly hope that Dan would know better than to give him any. Apologies were useless and didn't solve a goddamn thing. What he wanted was an explanation, for Dan to just come clean about everything right here and now.

He watched his face closely as he waited. Dan wouldn't even look him in the eyes, averting his gaze from Gavin's in what he could only assume was shame. For a long time, what felt like hours, there was nothing. Gavin was ready to give up and go back inside, knowing that Dan wasn't going to tell him anything uselful or any of the things he'd wanted to hear and Gavin had better things to do than stand around waiting for him to say something.

"I waited for you!" He'd just been ready to pull out of Dan's relaxed grip when he barely caught Dan's words. He hadn't expected him to speak, not when it was so unnecessary at this point. The expression on his face could only be described as distraught and upset, his emotions on-surface for once and not hidden deep down where Gavin would have to dig for them. It made him stop, making him stay grounded in place, looking up at Dan and taking in how absolutely _upset_ he looked. "I waited for you! All night, Gav. I waited. Out here. Please. Just-stay."

The porch was cold beneath his feet, the winter's wind blowing hard at him and making him shiver. He wanted out of here; this confrontation had never been a good idea. Yet, he stayed. By now, Dan's grip on him had relaxed to the point that he could easily pull from him, but Dan was begging him to stay for whatever reason. He was frozen, unable to move or even close the few steps to the door and run inside. Everything was urging him to just walk away from this and not let it escalate further, since it was already just frustrating him _more_ , but he didn't move.

He forced himself to pull his arm back, Dan's grip coming off his wrist, finally freeing him, but he didn't go anywhere from there. Instead, he just signed out what he was thinking, "Tell me, then. Tell me everything. Tell me why you're really going back to Oxford. I'm sick of all the goddamn lies."

He didn't know what he was expecting, but in that moment, Gavin realized that the whole 'expect nothing and you won't be disappointed' crap was a lie, because when Dan just stared at him, his hands dropping to his side, Gavin felt nothing _but_ disappointed. He shook his head, scowling, hating everything that was going on, hating himself and hating Dan .

He was shaking, and it wasn't from the cold, finally finding his voice in the moment, feeling it shake in his throat as he spoke.

"Then get the hell away from me."

His own words hurt _him_ more than anything else he'd discovered this past day. They stung at his throat, burning at his lips. He left, throwing open the front door without a single more glance at Dan. He didn't run, then, not like he'd planned. He couldn't find it in himself. Instead, he felt as if he were forcing himself to take each step, his walk slow and unsteady. He stared at the floor the entire shameful walk upstairs; no one could talk to him if he weren't looking. It took forever, but at last, he was finally in the safety of his own room with the door shut, alone and with nothing to bother him.

Only then, away from the eyes of everyone else, did he allow himself to curl up into a small ball on the bed he shared with Dan, feeling like he was trying to curl into himself.

-

Michael kept his promise. That was a much needed relief for him. Gavin hadn't come out of his room since running to it, ignoring the blinking of the call button next to the door,the equivalent of someone knocking at his door.

> Michael 8:46 PM: Hey. Sorry about kicking you out so suddenly earlier.
> 
> Gavin 8:46 PM: no problem
> 
> Michael 8:47 PM: You alright?
> 
> Gavin 8:49 PM: i dont know.
> 
> Gavin 8:49 PM: how much do you know

It took a while for Michael to reply.

> Michael 8:54 PM: A lot. Everything. Sorry. I was trying to help Dan last night.
> 
> Gavin 8:54 PM: i dont care.
> 
> Michael 8:54 PM: Hey, don't get angry at me. I said I was sorry. I was just trying to help.
> 
> Gavin 8:56 PM: no im not mad. i meant i dont care that you know

A month ago, Dan telling Michael anything had seemed like the end of the world. Gavin had gotten angry at him over it, furious and locking himself in his room just like he was now. But now it just seemed trivial compared with everyone keeping secrets from him and Dan leaving.

> Gavin 8:56 PM: is your gamertag mlpmichael
> 
> Michael 8:57 PM: Yeah. What's up?

Not a minute after it sent, Michael accepted the friend request. Gavin immediately sent him a message.

GavinoFree: Friend me on Skype. I'm GavinoFree on there, too. Set up your webcam and we can play Halo or something.

Gavin hooked Skype up to the television so he could see Michael and be able to communicate with him in game. It worked fairly well and, just as he'd expected, it'd helped take the edge off of Gavin's anxieties and loneliness. If no one else, he could talk to Michael. That was something. So they did just that, Michael playing Halo with him until he had to go to bed, reminding Gavin that there was school in the morning.

> Michael 12:11 AM: You coming to school tomorrow?

He got the text message about half an hour after Michael signed off, right when Gavin was going to try to sleep himself. He thought about not replying, not wanting to think about tomorrow at all. Tomorrow was Monday. Tomorrow he had to come out of his room and tomorrow, he'd have to talk to Dan and Geoff and Griffon. Tomorrow he wouldn't be able to avoid them. He didn't want tomorrow to come. He hadn't even been out of his room since arriving back home, constantly ignoring the red flashing call button and instantly deleting any text messages from his parents and Dan.

He did reply, though. He didn't want to just leave Michael hanging, especially when his presence had kept Gavin from driving himself mad by cooping himself up alone.

> Gavin 12:13 AM: yeah. see you then

He felt better, to an extent, after being able to talk to someone for a while and not have to think about everything else. That, however, didn't make things better once he tried to sleep, though. He tried sleeping in his own bed for once ,and felt weird and unfamiliar in the darkness, his body used to having Dan next to him, or even Michael's warmth pressed against him. He was stuck suddenly remembering why he didn't sleep alone, the whole explanation of why his own bed was almost completely unused. He remembered the first few months of being adopted, back when Geoff would drive him around until he fell asleep in the car, back when Gavin refused to even close his eyes for any extended amount of time, and he wondered why he was here, up here alone, without anyone, why he was shutting himself off from everyone else.

He knew why, but in the moments of darkness and silence, the moments where all Gavin had were the sheets beneath his fingertips and his thoughts, the reasoning seemed childish and didn't make sense.

\--

The twentieth.

That meant ten days until Dan left.

The bed was cold when he woke up, but at least it wasn't his own bed. At some point, when he couldn't fall asleep, he'd moved over to the bed he shared with Dan and after hours of lying alone, he'd finally drifted into a fitful sleep. The bed and room seemed unbearably cold, now. He had to get up, his body having woke him up at the time he and Dan usually got up for school, and he knew it, but all he wanted to do was lie beneath the cold sheets alone and savor the small amount of time he had left before he had to head to school. That was bound to be an awkward car-ride with Dan and he couldn't even imagine what the school day would be like when he had to spend all of it crowded beside his translator.

He usually liked spending the entire day with Dan. Most of the time, it was fine. They always had something to talk about, some sort of conversation going between them at all times. After all, Dan had been (Had been? Was? Is? Gavin had no idea where they stood.) his best friend . Now, he wasn't sure what he was going to do in class if he couldn't have all those little side-conversations with Dan. He hated this—this being so angry at him, this fury at him, this confusion between hatred and whatever this actual bloody love bullshit was. He wanted to hate him. He'd lied. For three months. And he'd gotten everyone else in on the lie, too. Gavin couldn't forgive him for that. Not yet anyway.

Yet—He wished he didn't know. Lying in bed as he urged himself to _get up_ , he imagined a reality where he would've never let his curiosities get to him, where he'd never asked Michael what was going on with Dan, where he would've believed the lies fed to him. If that was this reality, then everything might've—just might've—been alright.

He had Michael now. That was about it. He'd put all his trust in Dan and Dan had lied to him for three months. Geoff and Griffon, though they were his parents and he would inevitably forgive them, had gone along with it, perpetuating it and all three of them lying to him every day. His own family—it hurt. It hurt a lot, actually. He had Michael. Michael was—his friend. He could say that with some confidence, now. They'd clashed a lot and probably would continue to clash a lot, since they had pretty different personalities, but Michael was still his friend. Michael had _tried_ last night. He'd put effort into helping Gavin feel at least a bit better. That was a big change from the angry kid he'd met at the beginning of fall, the kid who'd nearly punched him in the face for an honest mistake. It was also an obvious improvement from Michael Jones, who thought it was a joke when Gavin had asked him what was wrong a couple weeks previous.

Michael was very different. And Gavin could now honestly say that Michael was his friend. He'd changed a lot, and he'd changed for the better, and now Gavin knew him well, too.

Thinking about it now, Gavin supposed he'd changed, too. Or at least, _things_ had changed. He couldn't exactly place _how_ , but he felt like a different person than he'd been at the start of the semester, back when everything had been alright and his biggest concern had been making Michael Jones's life an absolute hell. Actually—he realized he'd matured there, at least. He no longer immediately despised people who immediately labelled him as his disability and pitied him. After all, Michael had turned out to be alright once he'd figured out that Gavin wasn't just 'that deaf kid'. So there was that.

He had to get up, but he just kept shivering beneath the sheets of the bed for a few more minutes until he finally forced himself to sit up and actually get up. He might as well just get it over with right now, rather than putting it off as much as he could. He did the only thing he could and finally unlocked his door, peeking out before stepping out onto the loft and slowly padding down the steps, glancing around as he did so.

The house seemed strangely empty. There was a light from the kitchen, though, and being greeted by a mostly-empty house and the promise of activity from a single room was almost nerve-wracking and he found himself wishing the house had been buzzing and alive like it usually was. Still, he forced himself to be calm and prepared himself, stepping into the kitchen only to find a tired-eyed Geoff waiting for him.

He stopped, sighing and raising an eyebrow and looking him straight in the sleepy eyes, "Please don't tell me this is going to be one of those father to son meetings that idiots have in the movies."

He could've _sworn_ he almost saw a smile on Geoff's face. Really, he didn't want a confrontation at all. He just wanted to go to school and have it over and done with. He expected Geoff to sign some sort of joke back to him, expecting to unwillingly instantly forgive him, but Gavin never could've expected to see the next words that came from him.

"I'm going with Dan at the end of November."

"What?!" His eyes went wide, the movements of his hands pronounced and exaggerated in his own shock. He—No! He couldn't go with _Dan_! He couldn't go with Dan and not take Gavin. Why was he going with Dan? Not only… Not only would _Dan_ , his translator, be going, but Geoff, too! Griffon _had_ to be staying home. She had to. They wouldn't leave him here alone. At least he didn't think they would. They knew better, didn't they?

Why—what the _hell_ were they even doing in England that required the _both_ of them to go? It wasn't _that_ big of a deal, was it? It couldn't be. It just couldn't be and he didn't understand it and he didn't want either of them to go, especially without him, and he just wanted this all to stop and god _damn_ he hated all this bloody anger and frustration he was feeling and everything that was going on with this situation in first place.

"You _can't_!" He was at the table Geoff was sitting at now, frantically signing. "You can't go! Not both of you! No—not even one of you! I don't want either of you to go!"

Geoff was just shaking his head, still meeting Gavin's gaze, and that was enough to at least minorly calm him down. Geoff had that effect on him—which was probably part of the reason Griffon always called him Gavin's security blanket. He waited until Gavin had stopped frantically signing, "It's only for a week, Gav. I have to do this. Sit down and I'll tell you what's going on. Everything. I promise."

There it was, the offer to unravel the lies spun around their little family, an open offer and a promise Gavin knew Geoff would keep. Geoff was an honest person—and that had been part of the reason Gavin was so angry he'd lied—and if he promised something, he had every intention to keep that promise. He was offering to tell Gavin _everything_ , to sit there and tell Gavin the absolute truth, the thing he'd been after since everything started coming down around him.

Gavin didn't sit.

There it was, the offer to unravel the lies spun around their little family, an open offer and a promise Gavin knew Geoff would keep. Geoff was an honest person—and that had been part of the reason Gavin was so angry he'd withheld everything from him—and if he promised something, he had every intention to keep that promise. He was offering to tell Gavin _everything_ , to sit there and tell Gavin the absolute truth, the thing he'd been after since everything started coming down around him, and yet, he didn't sit.

It wasn't that he didn't trust Geoff. Geoff had lied as much as Dan had, but he still trusted him. He knew that if he took him up on it, he'd tell Gavin the truth and make sure he was alright with it. That wasn't the issue. The issue didn't lay in Geoff. The issue laid in Dan. The issue laid in the fact that Geoff had offered to tell Gavin immediately, and the issue laid in the fact that Dan had refused him the same truth _twice._ There was something wrong, something up, and the problem was that Dan wasn't telling him the truth when, if nothing else, he owed that to him. So he didn't sit. He just shook his head, looking for words, searching for something to say before saying exactly what was on his mind.

"Where's Dan?"

Geoff looked surprised at his refusal to tell him the truth, "He already went to school. Sorry, Gav. He knows you're angry. I know you're angry, too."

Gavin frowned, leaning back on the counters, "I have a right to be."

"I know."

"You _lied_ ," His motions were filled with the same fury they'd been last night, the same amount of vigor and emotions, the exact same intensity.

The answer he got was the same, but the expression on Geoff's face was different. He wasn't pitying him. He wasn't drowning in his own guilt like Dan had been. Instead, Geoff got up from his chair, faced him, and admitted it, "I lied. And I was wrong in doing so."

It was that little sentence tacked onto it that made it different than Dan's admission of guilt. That little sentence and the offer to tell him everything. It was everything that Dan's apology wasn't, everything Gavin needed to hear from Geoff. There were no excuses, no denials, no beating around the bush. Geoff admitted it and said he'd realized he'd been wrong in lying to him. It was that that made him break, that finally broke off the constant anger and frustration and brought everything that had happened the previous two days back to him.

His hands fell to the sides and he just looked at Geoff, no longer glaring at him, no longer giving him that furious and annoyed look, feeling a lot like he had in the hallway after screaming at Michael—naked, vulnerable, _upset_ because deep down, he knew exactly what was going on and although Dan was a big part of why he was upset—almost all of it, really—there was that small part of him he covered up that was upset about something that had nothing to do with Dan.

It came out in a single word, and he had to double check he was keeping his shaking hands steady , "Why?"

Geoff hesitated, but only for a moment, "We were wrong. We thought it'd be best if you—"

"No," Gavin cut him off immediately, knowing what he was going to say, knowing that Geoff hadn't understood him the first time, knowing he'd have to clarify something even he didn't want to bring to light. "Why only five years?"

The truth was that he hadn't been able to get that headline out of his head.

Geoff didn't say anything, clearly not having expected Gavin to sign that, and it was understood then, between the two of them, through the wordless signals and expressions, that Geoff didn't know. And for once, Gavin was actually alright with that. He wasn't sure he wanted to know in the first place or why he'd brought it up. He just wanted—maybe some closure. Something. Just anything, really. Closure to something that was apparently forcing its way back into his life after lying dormant for five years. That was all. Geoff not knowing was closure. It wasn't the conventional type of closure, but it was still something, and it was perhaps the best case scenario, because Gavin didn't know if he actually wanted to hear the real reason or not.

Geoff shrugged, Gavin watching him sigh heavily, "Sorry, Gav. I don't know. It's bullshit, though, I'll tell you that much. Fucking bullshit. But it's bullshit that we're going to keep from seeing the Land of the Free or whatever we're calling it now."

Gavin nodded. That was enough of an answer for him. He wouldn't press Geoff for any more. Geoff had offered him an explanation, but really, Gavin wanted that explanation from Dan, rather than Geoff. After all, Dan was the one _still_ hiding everything from him, and that mattered. That mattered a _lot._

"You want a ride to school?"

"No, I'll…" He really needed a break right now, just to take everything in and recover from his momentary lapse in thinking. He needed some time away from family before he'd see Dan again. "I'll just catch a ride with Michael. See you later."

He texted Michael as soon as he was out of the house, unsure whether or not his mother was home. He didn't want to risk it, not wanting to get Michael into trouble for going over to his house. It was easy to tell that Michael's family, which seemed to consist of just his mother now, didn't like Gavin's family. It could be a number of reasons—the fact that the Ramsey family was probably one of the most liberal families in the neighborhood, the fact that Gavin had punched Michael in the nose, or the simple fact that Gavin and Dan, two boys, hung out with her son. He didn't know which it was or if it was a different reason, but he had the lingering feeling he'd get in trouble if Michael's mother saw him.

Plus, he highly doubted he'd be able to even communicate with her. It was sort of easy to forget that he couldn't really talk to the outside world without Dan at his side.

> Gavin 7:04 AM: can i get a ride?

He sat on the porch swing outside where he was almost positive Dan had slept on the night Gavin had run away, judging from the pillow and blankets strewn across the swing, and looked over towards Michael's house. Sure enough, there was a car in his driveway, one that Gavin recognized to be his mother's. Dan's truck was absent from his own driveway, and Gavin still hadn't seen a single word from him and he wondered if Dan would be too distracted to properly translate his signs today. He didn't even seem to want to see Gavin, and Gavin really didn't want to see _him_ , either, to be completely honest.

The problem in that was that Gavin was essentially lost without Dan. He couldn't communicate without him. Talking in school was out of the question. There were too many people around and he just wouldn't be able to handle speaking in a situation like that. Dan was his lifeline, his voice, and the person who opened his closed off reality to the world around him. He had no idea what today would be like, but he could only hope that Dan would still be there to at least interpret for him.

A minute later, his phone vibrated in his hands.

> Michael 7:06 AM: Yeah sure. If you don't mind riding with my daredevil buddy Ray.
> 
> Michael 7:06 AM: Don't come over to my house, though. Just come when you see Ray's car.
> 
> Gavin 7:06 AM: got it

So he waited, checking his phone every few seconds, just in case he missed a message from someone. He'd actually never met that Ray kid or really seen him up close other than in his classes. He was apparently well-liked in the school and a (the only?) close friend of Michael's. From the gossip Dan translated for him and even some of the things he read on others' lips, he was a rambunctious kid with a high gamer score who was friendly with nearly everyone. Gavin had him in first hour and he'd never approached him otherwise. Other than the day he'd set Michael on fire, that was. He'd been there then and had taken Michael to the hospital.

He'd never said a word to the kid, which left him dumbstruck and wordless when a few moments later, a brown beat-up looking car abruptly stopped next to Michael's house. For a moment, he debated just not going over there and staying on the porch swing. He could easily avoid the awkward situation he knew was going to happen, but that would probably result in a silent car ride with Geoff and force him to go into the school completely alone, which wasn't quite something he wanted to do. Instead, he forced himself to get up and go, slowly making his way to the car, Ray waiting for him and Michael already getting in.

Being in a fight with Dan resulted in one huge problem—a language barrier. Gavin had started picking up on lip-reading before he could even correctly sign his first sentence. It wasn't a cure-all, though it was a valuable skill. He could understand the people around him without a translator, the only difficulties being him having to work out similar looking words and syllables or when people spoke too quickly or too slowly. Obviously, sign language was easier for him to understand, but lip-reading eliminated half of the language barrier—his half. The other half was him communicating with other people. There was no way for him to communicate besides sign language, which he _knew_ Ray didn't know, and speaking, which he wouldn't resign to, even though he was slowly getting more comfortable speaking out loud with Michael, and so, he felt the language barrier tenfold as soon as he made himself comfortable in the middle of the backseat.

He didn't even _need_ to feel it. It was made apparent as soon as Ray turned to Michael and asked him, "Should we just… Ignore him?"

Michael glanced back at Gavin, hanging over the back of his seat to look at him, and then back to Ray, shaking his head slightly, "What _the hell_ is wrong with you, Ray?"

That made the situation better at least a little. It made Gavin momentarily forget about everything going on, making him feel just the ghost of a smirk on his face. He could see the look Michael was giving his friend, a glare of incredulousness at what Ray had even suggested, and it reminded Gavin again that things really _had_ changed. This was the same angry kid who'd labelled him as disabled and treated him as just that label, and now he was challenging the only other friend Gavin ever saw him with when he'd tried to do the same. It was an improvement and even though Gavin was fully capable of standing up for himself, it made things a little better.

"What?"

" _Ignore him_? Jesus fucking Christ, Ray. He's not some sort of animal."

"I'm right here-" They both instantly turned to look at him, Ray with a look of shock and Michael just grinning slightly. Gavin rolled his eyes; it shouldn't have come as a surprise to this kid. He'd been there right after Gavin and Dan had set Michael on fire. He'd heard Gavin speak to Michael. It wasn't really _that_ big of a shocker, though he did have to keep in mind that everyone at school besides Michael and Dan thought he was completely mute, since he didn't talk at all in class, so the fact that he talked when the situation absolutely called for it—which, Gavin decided, it had to avoid awkwardness and just sitting in the backseat like a damn idiot—was pretty easily overshadowed by the whole mute label.

'Mute' was a label he'd never much enjoyed, either. He was mute just like he was deaf—it was a thing he was and he accepted the fact and moved on. He just wasn't completely mute and he had a voice, anyways. Or at least he'd _had_ a voice. The way things were going, Gavin had no idea if he'd even still be able to call Dan his interpreter after this. Things were sort of… really up in the air right now, and Gavin really despised the uncertainty of it all.

They were stuck like that, Ray continuing to stare at Gavin in disbelief until Michael nudged him hard and Gavin watched Ray stammer out, "I—Uh. Sorry about that. No offense. Really. I'm Ray, by the way. Ray Narvaez. Junior."

Gavin rolled his eyes at his attempt to make up for lost ground. It was obvious he was struggling with the fact that Gavin could properly communicate at least to some measly extent and trying to make up for his remarks. Gavin didn't really particularly care; Ray might've been more forward and oblivious about it than other people but really, it was all the same. People treated him differently and were awkward around him until they realized that he could actually understand perfectly, at which point they desperately tried to make themselves look good and were even _more_ awkward than before. Ray was no different, just another person participating in the cycle Gavin was so used to by now. Michael wasn't, though. Michael had stood up for him when Gavin hadn't expected him to.

"Gavin Free. The notorious deaf kid, I guess," It was a crap attempt at a joke, but right now, he'd do pretty much anything to lessen the awkwardness of the car. It worked, at least a little, as Ray grinned an overly bright smile and then pulled the car out of park, the drive to school feeling almost excruciatingly long and silent, leaving Gavin to again wish that none of this had ever happened and that he still had Dan by his side.

-

The school day was much like the ride to school—it drug on and on and there was nothing Gavin wanted more than for it to end. Dan was there, but to Gavin's surprise, he didn't even try to say a word to him. He never signed anything personal to him, seeming distracted and never quite meeting Gavin's eyes as he translated everything into signs for him and relayed what he had to say verbally. He put as much distance between he and Gavin as he possibly could, never moving his desk up against his like he usually did, never walking close to him, creating a huge, empty rift between them that Gavin couldn't close.

He didn't try. Part of him hated it—not liking feeling so alone, so isolated without Dan's presence, constantly wanting to turn to him and actually have a conversation with him—but a bigger part of him was completely fine with it. Dan had lied to him and betrayed his trust and _twice_ when Gavin had confronted him about it, he'd refused to tell him the truth. It wasn't something he could forgive, not when Dan wouldn't just _tell_ him, not when that goddamn _guilt_ was still bloody eating at him, not when he was acting exactly like he had five years ago, back when that very same guilt had nearly torn them apart and would've if Dan hadn't finally realized that Gavin didn't need a load of bullshit pity.

And then there was that other part of him, smaller, but still there, a part that _wanted_ a fight, that _wanted_ Dan to just tell him already that he was going to leave, that he didn't want to be here anymore and he was just going back to Oxford to fix things just so that he wouldn't feel guilty for leaving. It was that part of him that made him want to hit and scream at Dan and force everything to the surface, to abandon all of his practiced reactions and lack thereof and act on pure emotional energy for once. But he wouldn't. He'd told himself before, promised himself that he'd never act on his emotional energy when he was this furious, when he had this much charge, because he knew that it'd turn to violence, and for as long as he could remember, he's always resolved that he'd never be like _that_ no matter how much he wanted to give Dan a black eye for all of this _shit_ he was putting Gavin through.

Punching Michael out had been different. That had been a warranted fight, one that Michael had started and Gavin had finished by teaching him that he _wasn't_ a disabled helpless kid. This was completely different. This was an urge he'd seen before in other people, and he was in a situation wherein violence was unnecessary and would only make the situation worse.

It was that part of him that kept him up at night, forcing him awake and staring up wide-eyed at the ceiling in the silence and the darkness, alone and left to his own thoughts. The worst part wasn't that urge for violence or the absolute red hot _fury_ that coursed through him—it was the fact that he _knew_ Dan wouldn't hit back if Gavin ever did give into his learned behaviors. He would never touch Gavin. Out of guilt, out of resolve, out of something else entirely—he didn't know.

Maybe that'd been part of the reason Gavin had so quickly latched onto Dan once all the pitying had stopped and they were working to rebuild a friendship they'd had before. His personality compared and contrasted so much with Gavin's own—his peace with Gavin's chaos, his compromise with Gavin's perseverance, his public nervousness with Gavin's public confidence, and his private confidence with Gavin's private anxiety—that they just fit together so perfectly. Gavin was someone who disliked all forms of violence, despite his personality, and Dan was someone who stepped up for him in the midst of Gavin's pacifism. In that fight Michael had nearly been in, Gavin was completely sure he would've gotten his ass kicked in if Dan hadn't been there to shove the guy up against a wall and hold him by the collar. He was also completely sure that that would've escalated if someone hadn't run to get a teacher and that same kid would've probably ended up in a bad condition.

Despite that, Dan had never laid a violent hand to him, and that was part of the reason he'd so quickly attached to him. Dan was the first person he'd laid all of his bodily trust in. He'd been the first person he'd even begun to trust after the incident had destroyed all meaning of the word. He'd been there for him and he had _always_ been there for him , all through these past five years, his loyalty never once faltering and never giving Gavin a reason to not trust him. All of that loyalty and trust and for a full week of not even having a single personal conversation with Dan, a week of sleeping alone, a week of feeling almost completely isolated, Gavin was beginning to wonder where in their relationship to draw the line between guilt and sincerity.

He kept on being reminded of these past five years, of how much he'd trusted Dan. He went over things again and again, attributing everything to guilt, guilt, guilt. Dan did this or that because he felt guilty, not because he genuinely wanted to, and he slowly took apart each one of his memories until he wanted to tear his own hair out at how it was keeping him up at night, not letting him sleep and not giving him any alleviation from his constant stream of thoughts. He didn't know where to draw the line or if there even _was_ a line. Maybe the guilt had never stopped. Maybe it'd never _been_ sincere.

\--

Monday.

Three days. Finals were Tuesday and Wednesday. The rest of the week was off in order to give students a break from testing before the new semester started. Nor was he really worried about finals, unlike the other students and Dan. Even Michael was staying over later, desperately going over sign language with Dan and even with Gavin at times. Luckily, the two of them stayed completely out of Gavin's way, Dan avoiding him completely, just as he had for the past bloody _week_.

He presumably slept on the couch, left for school before Gavin even woke up, and stayed late at the school under the thin guise of extracurricular Gavin knew he didn't have and help from teachers Gavin knew he didn't need. The lies just seemed to be piling on more and more, the web expanding, even though Gavin was now completely aware of the fact that he was entangled in it. He just had no idea what, exactly, he was tangled _in_ , and that was the important part. That and the fact that Dan bothered to go completely out of his way just to avoid talking to Gavin just made things worse, stacking frustration upon frustration upon the already huge pile of emotions he had stored up from throughout the week.

Dan didn't talk to him and hadn't for an entire week. He avoided him, refusing even the slightest eye contact, which just made Gavin all the more frustrated.

Michael, on the other hand, was constantly pouring over books. Gavin had been over to his house a couple of times in the past week, and his company was probably the one thing that kept Gavin's head above water. He'd helped Michael a bit with sign language, doing his best to attempt to teach him, though he'd never done so before. He also spent his nights playing games with Michael, and it helped clear his mind so that he could sleep better.

He ended up actually sleeping between Geoff and Griffon a couple times, as he had when they'd first adopted him. Sleeping alone didn't turn out well. His thoughts kept him up late into the night and dreams woke him up in the early hours of the morning. Geoff and Griffon never seemed to mind, always letting him without complaint, but it didn't change the fact that he still felt like a child doing it.

Some nights, he found himself asking why he just didn't make up with Dan. And then he was reminded of what he needed.

The truth. He had no idea if he could begin to forgive him, not when he'd dragged this on for so goddamn long—and for what? Why couldn't he just come out and say it? There was too much to think about. This entire situation wouldn't just _go away_ if Dan told him what was going on. It wouldn't go away at all. He'd _thought_ it'd gone away years ago, but it looked like it would never actually leave completely.

And then there was the matter of whatever the hell he felt for Dan. It obviously wasn't some sort of childish infatuation. Gavin had figured that out the moment he realized that whatever he felt, he still felt it just as much even after catching Dan in his lie. It wasn't an infatuation or a crush or whatever else there was. For some goddamned reason, he felt _something_ _stronger_ for Dan and apparently had for a while and only just realized it. Which, really, just complicated things infinitely even more, adding more factors and variables into an equation he couldn't solve in the first place.

He was essentially badly stuck, and he knew it.

And that left him here, on a Monday after school, alone. Dan had separated himself from Gavin the moment the last class let out. Geoff couldn't pick him up for another hour—a meeting or something, he'd said. He had no idea where Michael was, but he was probably studying for finals. Gavin didn't want to bother him. That left him alone here for at least until Geoff could come pick him up, since they lived too far from the school to walk. Alone with nothing to do, he just sat against his locker in the hallway with a textbook to give the appeal that he was studying hard for finals.

At some point, he got absorbed in his thoughts, blankly staring down at the page of a textbook he didn't even remember the name of, too distracted by what was going on in his head to even so much as notice the outside world.

This was too much for him. He didn't have that many options, though—really just confront Dan again, continue to ignore him, get the story from Geoff, or let it go. The last option wasn't possible. It wasn't a matter of letting it go. It was too big for that, too much had gone wrong to just forget about it. This wasn't just a petty argument. Getting the story from Geoff was probably also out of the question—that felt a lot like defeat. Geoff had admitted he'd done wrong, apologized, and offered to talk to Gavin about it. Dan hadn't. Continuing to ignore him hadn't worked so far, and Gavin didn't think it would work later. Unfortunately, Gavin was stubborn and Dan was too ashamed and ridden by guilt to break.

That left one option. And even that was an option Gavin had already tried twice—once when finding out about it and again when Dan caught him out on the porch—and it'd worked neither time. He didn't think it'd work this time, which left him with nothing to—

Something light and balled up came flying right at him, just as Gavin whipped his head up, the ball of paper hitting him right between the eyes, making him flinch and quickly look up at the perpetrator. She just looked straight back at him, grinning from ear to ear with her hands on her hips ,showing pride in her aim . Lindsay Tuggey in the flesh. Gavin hadn't talked to her since their exchange about Michael a few weeks previous, so seeing her now was more than a little shocking.

He motioned to the textbook in a half-assed attempt to explain he'd been studying. She just made a dramatic show of rolling her eyes at him, "Please. I watched you stare blankly at that textbook for the past five minutes without your eyes even moving. I'm almost completely sure you're one of those kids who don't even study and still pull straight A's. Ugh. I'm simply dying of envy. Anyways," She pointed at the wadded up paper she'd thrown at his head. "I was wondering if you'd do me a favor."

He hesitated, taking a moment to appreciate her frighteningly accurate observations about his studying habits (or more—lack thereof), and raising and eyebrow before reaching for a notebook to write a response in.

> _What is it?_

He held it up to her, watching as she clapped her hands together and jumped, "Great! That's wonderful, really. Really great. Listen. Wait-Bad word choice. That," She pointed at the crumpled paper again. "That's an official invitation to a little get-together I'm having at my house Wednesday to celebrate the end of finals and one half of the school year being over. Well, it's not an _official_ invitation because really, I'm not going to take the time to make them for everyone, so it's special, since you have no idea where I live or anything. My address is on there and so is the time and date."

 _That_ was unexpected. A lot of kids knew Gavin, but his only 'friend' was really Michael. He'd never bothered to get close to anyone else, not really seeing it as anything he should go out of his way to do. Therefore, he'd never really gotten invited to anything. He'd gone to birthday parties and all that crap when he'd just been a kid, but not anything like this. It was unexpected. But not unwelcomed.

Right now, he'd exhausted all his options. Two were out of the question and two were things he'd tried before and had proven not to work. He didn't have anything else. He had nothing else to do. Wednesday was the day before Dan left for England. It'd be a distraction and even right now, he knew he'd need it. He wasn't going to spend that last day before Dan and Geoff left isolating himself upstairs. He couldn't handle any more of that. It sounded great, the only problem lying in the fact that Lindsay hadn't quite told him the 'favor' part.

> _So what's the catch?_

She glanced away from him for a moment, just long enough for Gavin's watchful eyes to catch the flicker away from him, "It's not really a _catch_. I just—Michael. I want to make things right with Michael. Please, you have to understand. He won't talk to me. He does everything he can just to avoid me. He doesn't know my address. If you could just bring him, I could talk to him—please."

What Michael was doing to Lindsay sounded a lot like what Dan was doing to him.

He wrote one last sentence, a finality.

> _Consider it done._

_\---_

If there was any moment Dan had ever had to stop and wonder exactly what he was doing, a moment when _he_ didn't even know his true intentions, it would be now.

The only thing he could do was take apart his thoughts and try to make sense of what was going on.

> _He was in love with Gavin Free._

Fact. And it had been for a long time. A really long time, and he'd finally, finally admitted it to someone. Michael knew, and Michael knew of what was going on between he and Gavin. Worst of all, Michael was also involved in it in more ways than one. But yes, he'd definitely fallen in love with Gavin at some point, and that point had definitely not been a recent point in time. Gavin, the exception to all his rules—

> _Gavin Free hated him._

Probably fact. Maybe. It wasn't for certain but given the way Gavin had told Dan to get the hell away from him the last time he'd signed anything besides a direct translation to him, it was probably fact. Dan had also done a lot to perpetuate his hatred and anger, from not telling him to all out avoiding him, which had been hard given how close they'd always been, and that was a certain fact, no questions asked. In the end, he really didn't _know_ how Gavin felt towards him. Lately, it seemed to be leaning towards dislike, and Dan was still wary of even _thinking_ of anything being requited before all this had happened.

> _Michael Jones was his friend._

In a world of uncertainty, that was one thing he knew for sure. Michael was his _friend_. Michael had been there when Gavin had run away. Michael had been there that entire night and Michael had held him underneath the flickering streetlight until Dan had finally gotten a hold of himself and pulled it together. Michael had also been there during the late nights of the past week, when Dan had stayed up, unable to sleep on the couch, and Michael had met him out on the doorstep two nights in a row in the late hours of the night, just to watch Dan struggle to hold it together as Gavin acted as if he didn't exist.

Michael Jones was unquestionably his friend.

> _Michael Jones was currently angry with Gavin._

Another uncertainty. With Michael, it was hard to tell whether he was annoyed or just slightly angry. Obviously, it was easy to tell when he was absolutely _pissed_ , and thankfully this was not one of those times. Michael Jones was currently hiding with Dan, a frown set deep into his face as he sat on the stairs of the off-limits basement in the unfamiliar house they were both in. Which brought him immediately to his next thought.

_He'd invaded Gavin's privacy and followed him to a party he hadn't told Dan he was going to._

Partly true. Or maybe wholly. Dan liked to think he was doing the right thing by doing this, but the moment he'd realized exactly _what_ he was doing, he'd figured out the whole 'right thing' part wasn't true. He'd asked Michael about it once Gavin had left the house, texting him and almost immediately getting the address out of him, and then he'd driven here, making sure to steer clear of the tiny brown car with Michael, Gavin, and some reckless kid named Ray Narvaez. He'd invaded Gavin's privacy and essentially followed him here. He was now a liar, a horrible friend, an even worse interpreter, and a stalker.

He didn't even really know _why_ he'd followed him here. A lot of the things he did lately didn't really seem to have a good reason to go with them, and they were just adding up, making him feel worse and worse with each passing day. He knewthat he should just tell Gavin. The truth, just like he wanted. That was all. And Dan owed it to him. He owed him a lot after all this, and he didn't think there was a way to string enough words together to apologize to him _nearly_ enough. But he couldn't.

Guilt. So much guilt. He felt like he was drowning in it and struggling to keep his head above. He felt guilty for what had happened five years ago, and in the end, that was what this trip was all about. He wanted to make things right. It wasn't the guilt he was trying to make go away. He'd accepted already that he had to just move on from his lack of action five years previous, but he still wanted to do something _now_ , to make sure they _wouldn't_ come back, that his best friend _wouldn't_ be hurt again, that Gavin could go on with his life and never have to worry about it ever again.

The main source of his guilt, though, was the lie itself. The guilt came from the fact that he'd created this infrastructure of lies and Gavin had realized it and called him out on it, and it was partly his own guilt that kept him from just telling Gavin the whole truth. It seemed backwards even now, but it was part of the reason, the other part being that he hadn't wanted Gavin to find out because he hadn't wanted him to think about his parents at all.

Things were rough right now, but Gavin was happy. Gavin had found his family. He'd _chosen_ his family. He had a mother and a father who treated him right and he was doing things he liked and Gavin was actually bloody _happy._ That moment Gavin had asked him about what the hell was on his computer screen—he'd seen Gavin's reaction. He'd seen Gavin completely shutting down, just focusing on something seemingly small in comparison to the bigger whole—Dan's lie to the fact that his biological parents had been released from prison. He'd seen it, and he'd been immediately reminded of Gavin in the rehabilitation center, just after the accident, when he reacted to nothing about his parents but got so wholly _furious_ over Dan's guilt and pity that he'd gotten worked up enough over it to scream at him on multiple occasions.

This reminded him so much of that situation that Dan was sure it was the exact same thing causing it, the exact same reaction. Griffon had explained it to him once—Gavin had learned over time to just not react to anything his parents did, probably because it'd only provoke them more or because it was his way of suppressing pain, but all that came out in separate ways. Namely, it came out in things that were legitimately _wrong_ , like Dan's lying or his constant guilt, but he used them as a cover up to the real problem.

 _That_ was the other part of the reason he hadn't just told Gavin the truth. As much as it stung to be ignored and told to get away from him or cursed at or whatever, Gavin still didn't know the full story—that his parents were trying to locate him and were probably trying to see him again.

However, none of that pertained to the reason why Dan was sitting in the dark stairwell going down to the basement of the house he'd followed Gavin to.

To be honest, he really didn't know _why_ he was here. He had a couple ideas, but nothing solid. Maybe he'd just wanted to make sure Gavin was alright. It was, after all, odd for him to go to _any_ sort of a party, even if it was at the house of a girl Dan considered to be respectable. Maybe he'd wanted to know why he was going. Maybe he'd just been curious. Maybe he'd wanted to talk to Gavin. He didn't know. He had no idea. All he knew was that he was down here hiding, with Michael sat next to him.

"It's fucking cold down here. Why the fuck are basements so cold?" He could feel Michael shivering beside him, his hushed voice breaking the silence of the basement.

"It's underground. Why—Why the hell are you down here, anyways?" This had been where he'd discovered Michael. Dan was down here to avoid getting seen by Gavin or anyone that would tell Gavin he was here, and he'd found Michael shivering on the basement steps and cursing under his breath for whatever reason. All he knew was that Michael had come to the party and now he was hiding down here for one reason or another. At the very least, it was nice to have a bit of company. He'd expected to just be down here alone and trying to figure out what to do next.

Michael didn't answer at first, freezing up, "No reason."

Dan sighed in the darkness, frowning. He'd been hoping for conversation. Or something. "Really? Because I don't think you'd be down here if you weren't bloody hiding from something. That's why _I'm_ down here."

"Hey, I don't need any of your goddamn British condescending shit," Annoyance flared in Michael's voice and Dan almost felt himself smile. "Maybe I just wanted to fucking keep you company."

"I found you down here first."

That apparently took Michael off guard, since it shut him up pretty quickly. The moment of silence between them was long and drawn out, leaving only the muffled sounds from the party upstairs to fall on his ears. Again, he found himself wondering why Gavin had come here in the first place and where he was now. Michael and Dan were both hiding from _something,_ Gavin had no one to translate for him, and Dan knew Gavin wasn't going to utter a word with so many people around to listen. Gavin had no way to communicate. Dan didn't think he'd be okay, and part of him wanted to go check, to finally break and talk to him, but he stayed put.

Finally, Michael spoke, his voice hushed, the shivering beside him stopped, "I used to know the girl who lives here. We had sort of a falling out and I've been avoiding her ever since."

Dan turned towards him, even though he could only see the outline of Michael's face in the darkness, "Ex-girlfriend?"

Another pause, "No. Gavin didn't say whose party this was and I'm not about to give her the chance to confront me. Things are… Just complicated. Really complicated. I don't even know why she'd ever _want_ to talk to me again after everything that happened." His words were followed by a long sigh and Dan let the topic drop, the two of them falling back into the pattern of silence they'd had before.

He didn't know how long it was before Michael spoke again, and Dan was immediately taken aback by his words, "You're leaving tomorrow."

It wasn't a question. Michael was stating a fact. Dan was leaving tomorrow with Geoff. He was leaving tomorrow and everything had fallen apart and he had no idea how to patch it back together again. It was all in ruins, and he desperately _wanted_ to fix it, but the only way _to_ fix it was something Dan didn't resort to, even if it was the thing that was the most fair and obvious answer.

"Yeah. Tomorrow. Eight in the morning," He didn't want to go, not when everything was like this, not when Gavin hated him and pushed him away, not when he was so wrapped up in this infrastructure of lies that he couldn't even tell Gavin the truth. He didn't want to go when things were this bad. It felt like running away, like taking off and leaving his problems behind in an entirely different country.

"Dan."

"I know."

Michael didn't have to say it—Dan already knew. He knew he couldn't leave like this. He knew he couldn't leave Gavin. He knew he'd have to make up with him and that this was his last chance. Michael didn't have to say it and if even Michael could notice it, could see what Dan was too blinded by guilt to see, then it was time to stop telling himself to just keep avoiding Gavin and _talk_ to him. It'd been almost two weeks of this shit. Two weeks of them fighting and Gavin ignoring him and feeling like he was being pushed further and further into a building snowball of guilt. He had to do _something_ , and he had to do it now, because tomorrow it'd be too late.

He had to fix it. Fixing it didn't entail going to England. Fixing it didn't entail some heroic deed. Fixing it entailed finding Gavin right now, right here, and telling him he fucked up. He had to try now, before he left the country. If he left without fixing things, he had a horrible, lingering feeling that he wouldn't be _able_ to fix things after that.

"You have to—" Michael started again.

"Yeah. I know," He didn't know _how_. He didn't know what to say to Gavin, how to even begin to apologize, how to tell him here, when there were so many people around. He breathed slowly, his hands knotting and tangling in his hair, millions of things running through his head all at once, making it so he couldn't just focus on _one._ He had to _try_. Try, try, try. He'd come here for a reason, that reason still too far beyond his reach, and now that he was here, he had to make amends. This was the last chance he'd get and it was now or never.

Dan looked at Michael again, just barely able to find his eyes in the darkness, their gaze locking for a moment before Dan stood, forcing himself to be calm and controlled in the face of what he considered to be the worst kind of uncertainty—when it was make it or break it and when his friendship with Gavin was on the line.

In the end, that was what it came down to, the worst part being that knew he'd put ten years of friendship into jeopardy—and for what, exactly?

-

The crowd was thick and the music was loud and he'd lost Michael somewhere in the sea of people. He recognized almost no one, pushing his way out before anyone could say a single thing to him. Gavin wouldn't be here, not when he couldn't stand being in crowds in the first place. Dan knew him well enough that he could at least guess that Gavin had probably isolated himself. He had no one by his side and no means of communication. He wouldn't willfully put himself into a situation in which he'd be forced to speak. So the answer was isolation. Gavin would put himself somewhere without a crowd and somewhere he wouldn't be noticed.

Michael was nowhere—He'd come up from the basement with Dan, but had gotten lost in the house somewhere. It was a loss, but the important part was finding Gavin. He didn't try to look for Michael, pushing his way through people until he finally reached the backdoor, sliding it open and stepping out onto deck outside, the quiet contrasting with the loudness inside as he shut the sliding door behind him.

Whoever lived in the house apparently had one hell of a penchant for gardening—the yard below the deck was beautifully serene, calming next to the chaos inside. It was exactly the place Gavin would go—an easy place to get away from a crowd, filled with flowers and trees, resembling something out a fairytale book. The sun was setting overhead, bathing the yard in a sea of deep colors. The noise from the party was muffled by the sliding glass door, the only sounds being that of the babbling little pond and the creaking of the swingset to the back of the yard.

That was where he found Gavin, sat on a swing, swaying back and forth slightly as he tried to coax an outdoor cat towards him. They were mostly alone out here, save for a couple sitting on the loveseat on the deck and a couple stragglers who'd come out for fresh air, leaving Dan free to approach Gavin at any time he wanted.

He didn't, though, or at least not immediately. For a few moments, he just watched, looking out over the railing of the deck at the scene beneath him as Gavin got the cat close enough to pat it on the head. He let Gavin have a few more moments of peace, knowing he was about to ruin it, knowing that this probably wouldn't go well and he could possibly just end up making it worse. He was in a place Dan didn't get to see him in very often—alone and in a state of calmness, unbothered by his surroundings—and something made him want to just keep looking at him.

He wouldn't. Instead, he found himself making his way across the yard. Gavin never once looked up at him, too preoccupied with trying to get the cat to come to him, Dan too worried with figuring out what he was going to get his attention.

It was quick. The cat ran, scurrying away faster than Dan had ever seen any cat move, leaping away from Gavin just as Dan approached him. Gavin's head whipped up to follow it, trying to see why it'd run, his eyes rather falling on Dan. He saw, then, a real reaction. It wasn't practiced or forced or a façade. It was real. Gavin froze, his entire body going completely rigid, his hand in midair. His green eyes were huge, looking Dan straight in the eyes, the first eye contact they'd had in two weeks, genuine surprise written across his expression and in the way he gaped slightly at Dan, clearly shocked that he was here. And none of it was anger. It was his real, initial reaction, not something he'd learned or channeled his frustrations into so he could feel. It was genuine and in that moment, there wasn't a single bit of anger or hatred on Gavin's face.

It was gone almost as quickly as it'd happened, Gavin frowning almost immediately, narrowing his eyes at Dan and planting his feet on the ground to stop himself from swaying, "What are you doing here?"

He signed it confidently, and Dan knew Gavin could clearly see the way Dan's hands were shaking as he answered him, "Looking for you."

Gavin stood and Dan stepped forward, closing most of the space between them. Gavin had done this before, running away in the face of problems. He'd run the night he'd found out and he'd run that morning on the porch when Dan had tried to talk to him. That had been their last conversation until this, and Dan wasn't about to let Gavin run again. He needed to fix things, and he needed to fix them _now_.

"Why?" Gavin wouldn't look at him, glancing around him. Dan was right in front of him now, preventing him from easily running away from him. He'd made it so Gavin would have to go around him, and it was clear he was still looking for a way to escape.

"Because—" Dan struggled for a response, trying to formulate _anything_ to say to him. Nothing was coming to mind. Gavin had always been the one with a talent for words. Dan was just the one who spoke them. When things like this were fully up to him, he struggled _a lot_ with it. "Because I'm sorry."

Gavin _was_ looking up at him now, his head tilted just slightly back to meet his eyes, and Dan had to fight to keep his gaze, to keep looking at that scowl he had at Dan's shitty attempt at an apology, "Is that all? Is that all you have to say to me? It's been two weeks and that—that's all you could come up with? 'I'm sorry'? Yeah, you're a piece of shit. I can't believe you."

It hurt. It stung a lot and Dan couldn't say anything back to him and that gave Gavin the opening. He started to take off, taking Dan's recoil at his words as an opportunity, and Dan saw him look to his left and make the decision. He didn't let him carry it through and just as Gavin started to make off in that direction, Dan grabbed his thin wrist, easily pulling him back, yanking on him to force him to stay here with him. The reversal of momentum almost sent Gavin to the ground and he violently pulled back against him, trying to twist out of Dan's hold. He pried at his fingers with his other hand and Dan took the chance to grab him by the wrist there, too, both forcing Gavin to stay where he was and rendering him completely unable to talk, unless he decided to actually speak.

He had him. He had him here in his hold, squirming and glaring at him.

"Stop," It was high pitched, loud, a whine coming from Gavin, his voice sounding nothing like it was usually—practiced and controlled. "Stop—Let go of me. Stop. Dan. Let go."

Gavin was looking from him to behind him, where Dan knew they had all eyes on them now. Gavin's voice had echoed through the neighborhood, completely uncontrolled and unrestrained. It almost made him let go, nearly making him feel bad enough for holding him like this, in a way that was _forcing_ him to stay here, that he almost abandoned everything he'd promised himself he'd do. Almost.

"I'm sorry! Look—I'm sorry. I'm sorry, Gav," He couldn't control his own voice, he realized, unable to keep the emotion out of it and the level down. Gavin obviously couldn't hear it, but everyone else could and everyone else was going to see him break again, just like he had that night Gavin ran away. "I'm sorry. I'm so—I'm so fucking sorry. I don't know why—I can't tell you why I did it. I'm just sorry and I fucked up really badly and I should've told you. I'm fucking sorry. I didn't want you to find out. You were never supposed to know."

Gavin was still pulling at him harshly, but just for a moment, he stopped, looking up at Dan, that fire from before returning to him, "Tell me _what_?"

"Your parents—" He breathed the words out, hating how they sounded in the open, hating that he had to say them, hating that he had to tell Gavin. None of this ever should've happened. It should've been twenty years. Instead, they got _five_ and Dan had decided to be a goddamned idiot and go to England to make things right, when that wouldn't _really_ fix anything. "—They're out of prison. And they're trying to see you again. They're trying to find you. Look, Gav, I just wanted to make things right. I didn't do anything five years—"

"Just fucking stop with that already!" Gavin yelled at him, his voice louder than anything at the party, anything he'd heard before, and nothing had ever resounded in his ears the way that did. Gavin was breathing hard, never dropping Dan's gaze as he screamed at him, always looking him straight in the eyes as their argument took on the tone Dan hadn't heard since the last time Gavin told him to just stop with the guilt. "I've heard that. From. You. A million times. You know how much I hate it. You know that you can't go back and make things right or whatever bullshit. I don't care about what happened five years ago. I care about right. Now. What's done is done, Dan. Get the hell over it. Leave it in the past where it belongs."

"I can't."

His two words were uttered as he stared at the ground. He let go of Gavin, causing him to stumble backwards. But he didn't run. He didn't try to leave. He stayed where he was, rubbing his wrists slightly, still looking straight at Dan.

"You're going so you can leave me, aren't you?"

Gavin still spoke out loud, his voice more controlled now. He spoke at a normal volume, his pronunciation much better, but it didn't stop his emotions from just slightly seeping into his voice, just enough that Dan could hear it. Hurt. A lot of hurt. Gavin really thought that he was leaving him for good. He had no idea why Gavin could think that, where he could ever come up with—

The Burnie thing.

Gavin had been upset then, too. He'd thought Dan was rejecting a future with him when it was really much simpler than that—he just didn't want to be on camera. He should've known. He should've seen it coming. Gavin was—actually really insecure. He had this confident, assured front, but in reality, he was extremely insecure and had a hard time when he was _completely sure_ someone he trusted hated him or didn't like it and was constantly assured different. Dan had told him later that day in the car that that wasn't the case, that he just didn't want to be on camera, but he'd still been left with the same impression. And all this, all this Dan trying to fix things, to ease his guilt—

Gavin had thought it was because Dan was trying to make it up to him so he wouldn't feel guilty about leaving.

That wasn't the case at all. In fact, that was the complete _opposite_ of the case.

"Gavin, no," He took a step back, putting his hands up in a sign of defeat. "That's not it."

"Bullshit," Gavin followed him, stepping towards him, backing Dan up towards the deck slowly. Their positions had switched, with Dan now on the defense against Gavin. "Just come out and say it. I need to hear it."

"Gavin, no," He repeated, continuing to back away from him. "Stop. Listen to me."

He couldn't remember a time he'd seen Gavin more utterly _upset_. He couldn't remember ever seeing it so clear on his face, across his features and in his voice. He was always very guarded and in-control of his reactions. Right now, all of that had seemed to just completely drop. This was the first time he'd ever seen Gavin _react_ so strongly to something.

"I wish this had never happened. I wish I'd never found out. I wish you'd just told me—" Dan's spine hit the wooden supports of the deck as Gavin carried on. He'd backed him up all the way across the yard, not accepting Dan's sign of defeat and plead for him to just stop and take in what he had to say. "I wish I'd never—"

He fell quiet, and then everything went silent. There was no noise, nothing Dan could hear, nothing his ears picked up, just a single beat of absolute, complete silence. No one talked. Dan didn't breathe. The wind didn't blow, the music was in between songs. There was nothing and in that beat of silence, he realized that it was like this every day for Gavin, that this was just one little moment of his life. He took in everything in that moment, the strange look of a mixture between shock and desperation on Gavin's face, the way he froze up completely, the way he'd only just noticed Michael at the deck stairs, watching them and stuck in the moment of nothing, just like he and Gavin.

Then, everything was happening all at once.

Gavin was against him, kissing him hard, pushing him back against the supports, and his arms were suddenly around Gavin's waist, holding him against him and nothing else was there—not Michael, not the crowd watching him, not anything. Gavin's chest was pressed up against his, the pressure of his body leaning up to reach his face, and it was Dan's best friend, the same best friend who was the exception, the exception he was in love with, against him. It was _Gavin's_ lips against his, _Gavin's_ body against his and it brought Dan back to what he'd said to Michael, as, in the few moments of being shoved against the supports, he felt like he fell in love with Gavin a thousand times over again.

He'd probably imagined this moment for years. He'd never actively let himself think about it or even allowed himself to consider the possibility that his feelings were even the least bit requited. It wasn't something he'd ever thought would happen. It was just something his mind wandered to when there was no buffer to stop it, usually in the nights when he was on the brink of sleep. His thoughts would just fall on it, his mind creating thousands of possibilities and scenarios he'd thought would never happen. He'd imagined this a lot. But he'd never imagined it like this, never in the middle of a fight with Gavin, never in front of Michael or anyone else. This was an impossibility he'd never considered and yet, it was happening.

Gavin's hands were curled into the links of the support on either side of Dan's shoulder, giving off the impression that he was holding him there, pinning him there. He wasn't, with Dan's ability to easily overpower him, but he didn't pull away, his hands pressed into Gavin's back and his hips, holding him _against him_ rather than shoving him away from him.

It felt like it lasted forever, and at the same time, it was entirely too short. Gavin pulling away was sudden. One moment he was up against him, kissing him in the middle of a fight and the next, he wasn't. Gavin pulled away from him, out of his hold, and Dan immediately felt his absence. He didn't say anything. He was too taken aback by the sudden change, from the way Gavin had gone from accusing him of wanting to leave to kissing him, in shock from the events that had just transpired. Gavin looked about as shocked as he was, eyes huge and a hand raised as if he were about to sign something to him, but couldn't find the words to say.

They were both speechless, signless, and motionless. Neither one of them moved for one excruciatingly long second. Dan was still trying to catch up. He _knew_ that'd happened. He knew Gavin had just pushed him up against the wooden supports of the deck and kissed him. But he couldn't comprehend it. It didn't feel or plausible. He was still in shock from it, and when Gavin started backing away from him, he did nothing to stop it.

And then, Gavin did exactly what Dan expected him to, glanced behind him, and ran.

-

He took off faster than Dan could catch him, running away from him, darting off in the other direction.

"Gavin!" The yell tore from him faster than he could realize that it was useless to call after him. It was instinct and Gavin didn't stop, gone from Dan's line of view. He'd watched Gavin jump the yard's fence and he was gone and not coming back, as far as Dan could see. He left Dan alone, standing under the deck, no explanation as to why he'd suddenly kissed him, no continuation of their fight, nothing. He had no idea what to think and even less of an idea what to do.

He had to find Gavin.

That much was obvious. He had to find him. He had to continue this, as much as he didn't want to fight with him anymore. He had to figure out what all that was and why it'd happened-he wouldn't leave when things had suddenly just gotten even more complicated than they had been before. Gavin was gone and Michael still had him fixed with his stare of shock and disbelief, and Dan needed his help.

"Michael," He didn't move from his spot and neither did Michael, even though he'd clearly heard him. He called out to him, his voice strangely devoid of emotion in the midst of Dan not knowing _how_ to feel about everything. "Michael. Please help me find Gavin."

There was no argument, no questions, no comments. All Michael did was nod. It was better that way and Dan didn't have to explain anything. He didn't know where to begin; in reality, he was just as confused as Michael was, if not more, and he was grateful for the fact that Michael didn't say even a word as he joined Dan under the deck, sighing heavily as he leaned on the support next to him.

"Where do we start?" He asked, quietly, his words almost lost over the hum of the music from inside. Dan didn't even want to look to see the crowd he and Gavin had acquired through their spectacle of the fight. It'd been a horrible idea to confront him out here, and grabbing Gavin by the wrists to cut him off was perhaps the worst idea he'd ever had. It occurred to him now that everyone else had been under the impression that Gavin was totally mute, rather than just partially. He didn't speak in class-Dan did for him-and he was never put on the spot or thrown into a situation where he couldn't communicate, so forcing him to do so had been really shitty, actually. He owed Gavin another apology for that, as well as an explanation and reassurance that no, he wasn't going to England and then leaving him.

"I don't know," Dan answered him truthfully. There was no point in lying anymore or pretending like he knew what was best. He'd probably fucked things up again and he didn't know how to fix them, what to say to Gavin, or even where to start looking for him. He shrugged, turning to Michael, "Probably-somewhere alone. He wouldn't have gone too far from here, since he's not familiar with this neighborhood. He also wouldn't hide in someone else's yard, and he's most likely not inside."

All guesses. Educated guesses, but still guesses. Michael took a moment, clearly thinking, frowning slightly, "If he's not inside, he might be out by the street? There's not many people out where Ray parked. He might be around there."

Dan closed his eyes, leaning back and breathing slowly, attempting to get a grip on things and figure out where he stood. "Yeah. Let's check out there. That's better than nothing."

They walked in silence, Dan staring at the ground in front of him, Michael leading the way. He followed Michael out through the back gate, both of them having an unspoken agreement to not go through the house again. Darkness had fallen overhead, the street illuminated by dim streetlights and the lights from the surrounding houses. Michael led him about a half block away from the house, down near where Dan had parked, thinking it was far enough to divert attention. He brought him to the brown car Dan knew belonged to Ray Narvaez, a friend of Michael's.

Only when they reached the car did Dan speak again, "Why?"

Michael was glancing around the car and towards the darkened houses they were parked outside of, only stopping when he heard Dan ask the question that'd been burning at his throat ever since their conversation in the basement, "Why what?"

"Why are you helping me?" It didn't make any sense to him. This was Dan's problem. Michael had no obligation to help him, and yet, here he was, helping Dan look for Gavin. He'd also been the one to push Dan to making up with him in the first place. He didn't understand why Michael bothered, why he was here with him when he could be back at the party.

Michael stood up straight, Dan just barely able to see his face in the near-darkness, "I don't know. Maybe I sort of-you know. Care about him. He seemed pretty fucking upset. I just want to see if he's alright. If you two are alright. Because I have no goddamn idea what that was back there."

"Yeah, you and me both," He agreed, glancing around him one last time. "I don't think he's around here. Let's check in-"

What interrupted him wasn't Michael cutting him off and it wasn't someone else finding their way into their conversation. It was the loud roar of an engine and the bright glare of white headlights blinding the both of them, making Dan stumble back and attempt to cover his eyes. His reaction was immediate, and he didn't wonder for a second what was going on; he just immediately _knew_.

"Gavin!" Again, his yell was instinctual, and so was the way he took off, running towards where Gavin had started Dan's car. His keys were gone and he hadn't noticed until now, the keyring he usually clipped to his belt missing. He'd been too distracted to figure it out beforehand, and too preoccupied with everything else to realize the most simple thing. Gavin was upset and when he was legitimately upset and actually showed it, he was prone to abandoning his usual amount of forethought and logical thinking. He became driven by emotions, and this was clearly one of those times.

He got there before anything bad happened, before Gavin actually had the initiative to drive. His dislike of driving had finally played out in Dan's favor. Deaf people _could_ get their licenses, but Gavin had never wanted to, hating even the idea of being behind the wheel all together.

In a second, he'd thrown open the door to the driver's side, stopping Gavin from getting any further, Gavin just staring down at him with a look of mixed surprise and fear. He didn't want a confrontation. He'd wanted to keep on running away and not talking to Dan. He wasn't going to let him get away. This was their last chance and everything was confusing and frustrating, but there was _something_ there, something that Dan felt, too. Gavin had kissed him out in the backyard and then he'd stared at Dan in a look of complete shock, like he was surprised at himself, and then run off. There was something there and Gavin was terrified of Dan leaving him and he had no idea where to start.

So he did the only thing he could think of, and he continued what they'd left off at in the backyard, leaning in, bracing an arm against the car door, and kissing his best friend. It was gentle, nothing like what it'd been before, nothing hard and desperate and filled with every frustration. This was an answer to the question Gavin had asked, an answer he could only give after going after him, after trying to make things right between them. He couldn't tell where he was going with this or where it led, but it was definitely somewhere, and he realized that this was his best friend, the person he'd stuck with for ten years and would stick with for as long as he could, the same person he'd slowly fallen in love with over the years, and he was kissing him.

Things weren't going to be the same after this, not when it had gone this far. He came to terms with that the moment Gavin put his shaking arms around his neck and tried to pull him closer to him, the fact that Dan was still standing outside the door hindering his ability to.

He had to pull away, then, because there was so much to say and not enough words to say it.

"I'm not leaving," It was simple, a reassurance to Gavin, spoken out loud rather than signed. He repeated it, leaned in close to him, "I'm not leaving. That's not what this is about. I'm not leaving you. That was _never_ what this is about."

Gavin just stared back at him, his expression unreadable in the darkness, slowly untangling himself from Dan and sitting back. Dan let him have his time, waiting until Gavin nodded and signed his response, "Okay. I-" He didn't continue that sentence, taking a deep breathe, his eyes flickering back to Dan. "Okay. I want to go home."

-

It was over quickly, the night feeling long and drawn out. Gavin had climbed over into the passenger's seat, staring out his window, Dan taking the moment to talk with Michael.

"Sorry about that," He rubbed the bridge of his nose, heaving a heavy sigh as he leaned on his car, knowing he had to make this quick. Michael had watched it all play out, standing off to the side as Dan kissed Gavin and told him that he wasn't leaving. "And sorry for ruining your night, too."

It hadn't seemed like Michael had really been enjoying the party before, but he'd ended up spending the rest of it helping Dan look for Gavin and watching them as they argued. It seemed like a really crap night and now Dan was leaving with Gavin, too emotionally exhausted to carry on tonight. He'd rather just go home and deal with stuff, even though he didn't particularly want to leave Michael here.

"It's nothing. Really," Michael sounded far away, distant.

Dan hesitated, watching the house half a block away, "You'll be alright?"

"Yeah. Alright. I'll be okay."

Dan turned, opening the door to the driver's side of the car, ready to go home and finally have things return to semi-normal. Michael grabbed his shoulder before he could, though, making him spin around to face him again, "Hey. Wait. Gavin. Is he going to be alright?"

He didn't know. He really didn't know. Gavin had a lot to think about and so did Dan. But he didn't want to make Michael any more worried than he already was, "Yeah. He's fine."

Their responses were short, Michael constantly pausing and sounding distracted. Instead of getting in the car and closing up the conversation, Dan lingered. Tomorrow. Tomorrow he'd be in a totally separate country. Everything had changed today and tomorrow he'd have to leave it behind and focus on something else. Tomorrow. "Michael. I need you to do something for me. I'll never ask you for another favor after this, but-I need you to make sure Gavin's alright while I'm gone. Please. He can take care of himself perfectly fine, but please. Just stick around him."

Michael didn't hesitate and for once, he actually sounded completely there, "I promise I'll look after him when you're gone."

Dan let out a breath he didn't realize he'd been holding, relieved to hear the words from Michael's

mouth. He believed it. He believed Michael when he told him he'd look after Gavin. That was all he needed, all he wanted from him, "Thanks. I mean it. I trust you a lot, Michael."

Suddenly, Michael's arms were around him, around his waist, and Michael was against him, hugging him tightly. It took Dan off guard, making him drop the keys he'd taken from Gavin onto the ground, gasping sharply as Michael seemed to be trying to hug the air out of him. It was over, then, in less than a moment, Michael pulling away just a second later and stepping back, not even looking at Dan, "Call me at least. Tomorrow when you land. Please."

Michael had promised to take care of Gavin when he was gone. This was the least he could do in exchange. "Yeah. I'll call you tomorrow. I promise."

It was fall when everything changed, and winter where things started to mend.


End file.
